


A is A: Detour of Conflict

by Flyboy254



Series: A Is A [46]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, The Saboteur (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - World War II, Crossover, Fuck The Nazis, Gen, Two-Fisted Tales
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 133,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28503846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyboy254/pseuds/Flyboy254
Summary: On a recon mission into a universe close to their own level of development, Jean Havoc and Korra need to lead their teams through a world embroiled in a conflict they've only heard about. Stranded in the multiverse, the two groups must work together with a group of rejects worse than the MVTF in order to fight against a threat that needs facing.Thrill as Alphonse Elric navigates the Resistance's network! Cheer as Jean Havoc leads his cell in the dangerous Parisian nights! Watch on the edge of your seat as Asami Sato plays a deadly game to secure victory!Firefights, explosions, thrills, chills! Don't miss it, read it today!
Series: A Is A [46]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/943266
Comments: 68
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

Gen. Hammond turned from the paused screen to MV teams 2 and 3. The footage was of a cobblestone street, with sleek angled cars driving by. “We can’t pick up any satellite or GPS signals. There was plenty of AM radio traffic though, from what we can piece together it comes from an alternate Germany.”

Al nodded. “That’s the nation Amestris has a lot of similarities to?”

Gen. Hammond nodded. “Looking at the technology, and the lack of satellite signals of any kind? We want MV-2 and MV-3 to scout this universe. Observe what might be happening, watch for any signs of magical ability, then report back.”

Havoc nodded. “Got it sir. Anything we should be concerned about?”

Bolin held a hand up. “I think so. Sir, if this is an alternate Germany, then we need to watch out for Nazis.”

Gen. Hammond thought for a moment. “You’re not wrong Bolin, but remember that here the Nazis might not have even found support. All we need is a simple, swift recon mission. After that, you’ll have some time to rest.”

Havoc nodded, glancing at Bolin. “Right sir. If you need anything else from us, send a runner.”

As the teams separated, Mako and Bolin made their way down to the gym. “Hey, Bolin, you feeling okay?”

Bolin tried to smile. “Maybe? I guess I’m a little apprehensive. If there are Nazis here, this won’t be pretty.”

Mako grabbed Bolin by the shoulder. “Bolin, we’ll be alright. I know you’re worried about this one, but remember what Reinhardt said. You’re not a Nazi. You faced what you did, and you’ve taken responsibility for it. You did it the same way Teal’c has for being Apophis’ first prime.”

Boolin nodded. “Yeah, I know. Hey, maybe Gen. Hammond’s right and there won’t even be any Nazis?”

Mako gave his brother a pat on the back. “Exactly. Now c’mon, let’s to the gym.”

* * *

Al sat in the SG mess, reading over the newspaper and sighing. Kinsey was in the news again, making another case for war with Iraq. His latest attempt was that America’s allies needed to know that the “greatest nation on Earth” would support their security.

May set her tray down on the table. “What’s wrong?”

Al set the paper aside. “Kinsey. Worse, there are lots of people who agree with Kinsey.”

May groaned. “Maybe that Malvin woman has a point. You’d never see fools like him in power in Xing.”

Al grinned, looking over the edge of his paper. “What about Ling being emperor?”

May chuckled. “Ling has moments of foolishness, but he isn’t a fool. Kinsey, I don’t understand how such a man can find any power. I can only imagine the kind of people who would support him.”

Al folded the paper up and set it to the side. “We know that the NID relies on him in the Senate. We just need to know who Kinsey relies on, then we can put him in the stocks.”

May started into her lunch. “What about the other men who want to start war with Iraq?”

Al paused, staring at the headline. “SENATORS URGE ASSISTANCE TO ALLIES”.

“Hey kids,” Havoc said, sliding into the table next to them. “So, any thoughts on the mission yet?”

“Only that it doesn’t go wrong,” Al said, sighing as he set the paper aside. “Gen. Mustang won’t be coming with us?”

“Nah, he and Hawkeye have got a few things to take care of. Finalizing some paperwork in Ishval before he’s officially out of there.” Havoc scowled, and Al couldn’t blame him. Ishval had been Mustang’s goal, rebuilding it to where it had once been. Accepting the reality couldn't have been easy for their friend.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Al said, smiling as he started on his food: Half-decent BBQ ribs, peas, and over-cooked pasta. “…After lunch.”


	2. Chapter 1 - La Belle de Nuit

**Chapter 1: La Belle de Nuit**

* * *

The two teams came out in an alley, staring out on a nighttime scene of a city. There were cars in the distance rolling through the streets, and the far-off chatter of people in their lives. The MALP was still there, waiting like a loyal pet to be sent back home. The problem was when Havoc hit the recall lacrima, the MALP didn’t disappear. He slapped it again, but the MALP stubbornly remained.

Bolin’s face collapsed. “Great, now we’re stuck in this dimension.”

Havoc nodded. “They’ll send someone to get us once they realize the MALP isn’t back. Al, Korra, can you still do what you do?”

Al clapped his hands and slammed them against the pavement. Nothing. Korra took a breath and slammed her foot down. Nothing again.

Havoc groaned, pulling out a cigarette. “Perfect, no magic and no way back. Alright, we’ll have to wait here until-”

Bolin pressed himself up against the side of the alley. “Nazis!”

Everyone made themselves scarce, ducking behind cover and following Bolin’s eyes. They saw them, a pair of soldiers in gray fatigues with rifles slung over their shoulders. The part of the uniform they all locked on were the red armbands on left arms. In center of the bands, a black swastika on a white field.

Nazis.

“We need to get out of here,” Bolin said. “If we stay and they find us we’ll make too much noise.”

Havoc watched the two soldiers continue on. “Well where do you say we should go? Your four and May are gonna be as obvious as Alphonse when he was a suit of armor.”

“Then we’ll say here,” Asami said. “You can find somewhere we can get some information. We’ll be waiting when you get back.”

Al checked that his revolver was secure before adjusting his coat. They were dressed like they were back home, slacks and jackets that looked as much the same as back in Central City. They noticed many of the men were wearing hats though. He wondered if they needed to find some for themselves.

[Following Havoc,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TY_mPUjGMQ) Al watched as he made his way toward a building with a prominent façade on the front. There was a sculpture of a female woman three neon hearts flying out from her hand. Two cabaret girls were on the marquis, supporting the statue above flashing signs advertising various acts. Al didn’t understand the language, he just knew it looked similar to what he’d seen from Creta.

Breda looked around. “What do you think?”

Havoc nodded. “Looks like the kind of place to get information. Al, try not to react, okay?”

“Sure, no problem.” Al wasn’t quite sure what he wasn’t reacting to, but he figured Havoc knew what he was doing. Coming up to the door, Al looked out onto the interior of the building.

There was a woman on the stage, singing as a crowd of Nazi soldiers laughed and drank and jeered in front of her. The part that caught Al’s eyes was that she was singing without any clothes on. He forced himself not to react, not to the woman on the stage or the two dozen other women walking around without actual clothes on. He wasn’t so sheltered or naïve that he didn’t know places like this existed. Sex sold, and it made sense soldiers would be the best clients for places like this. Biology was nothing to be shocked by, and he’d studied enough books to OH THOSE ARE BIG!

Havoc kept puffing away, scanning the interior. “Spread out. Al, stay with me. Everyone else, keep your eyes and ears open.”

Havoc went to the bar, Al trying to look anywhere but up. Breda went to the right of the stage, keeping his eyes on the Nazis. Fuery stood by the door, keeping an eye on the edges of the place and civilians inside. Falman made his way up the stairs to the second floor, not seeing any Nazis up on the balcony.

Havoc settled down at the bar, nodding to the barman and flashing two fingers. The bartender, a bald, bearded man with a pronounced gut, nodded and poured out two beers. Havoc gave the man a nod and took a drink. “C’mon Al, either play along or we’ll look suspicious.”

Al nodded, trying to keep himself from staring at every pair of mammaries that came in five feet. He took a sip of the beer, and tried to hold back from spitting it out. “Havoc, this is terrible.”

Havoc nodded. “I know. Keep sipping it, you can still get drunk on terrible beer.”

Al tried, but couldn’t stand the taste for more than a few seconds. He tried to look around, but wound up seeing more breasts. Groaning, he turned to the bar and tried to figure out where his life went so wrong.

Falman scanned the balcony and floor below, watching as the Nazis caroused and laughed through the end of the song. The woman on stage bowed, showing that she was fully equipped for the howling Nazis, before swaying her way off-stage. The second floor was quiet, civilians and Nazis talking to women outside a series of rooms. Falman grinned. If Al had been embarrassed by what he saw on the first floor…

The women on the second were more personal with the clients, that was the polite way of putting it. They ran their hands over the men with them, giggling and holding them in their arms. Every few minutes they’d make their way into one of the rooms, a fox’s grin on their face as they lead a man in. Otherwise, it was a man walking out, smiling as he adjusted his trousers and tucked his shirt back in. The woman would walk out shortly after, checking that her hair was in place and carrying a wad of paper money before either going downstairs or looking for another client.

He noticed something. Two men not watching the house or talking to the girls. One wore a dark green greatcoat and boots, with coifed brown hair and a commanding jaw. The other had a flat cap, five o’clock shadow and a worn brown peacoat. He pulled a cigarette from the coat, moving his satchel as he did. Curious, Falman closed in. The man in the green greatcoat smiled, greeting flat cap like he was an old friend. Flat Cap didn’t seem so enthused.

“So, did you see that explosion?”

Now Falman was interested in what Greatcoat and Flat Cap had to say.

“ _Magnifique!_ Have you ever seen anything burn like it?”

Flat Cap remained unimpressed. “Just once. But that was a long time ago.”

“Well, we are just getting started my friend! You have a talent for destruction, Sean. I believe we may have found your true calling.”

Good, now Falman had a name for Flat Cap, “Sean”.

A brunette woman made her way over to the pair. If she was an “employee” of the place, she didn’t show it. She wore a conservative jacket and blouse, flattering trousers with stockings and heels. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and Falman didn’t like the glare she was giving the pair. Finding an empty piece of wall, Falman folded his arms as he listened.

“Sean! Oh, excuse me Mousier Gaudin, I didn’t know you were acquainted.”

Sean smirked at the woman. “We just met.”

The woman smiled like she was a schoolgirl in front of her crush. “It is an honor to meet you, mousier.”

Greatcoat smiled more like a teacher to an excited student. “Please, call me Luc.”

The woman blushed, looking down. “Yes, I have read all of your books.”

Luc’s smile shrank. “Sadly, I don’t think you’re here to discuss literature.”

The woman nodded, her blush vanishing. “Yes! Have you heard about the explosion at the fuel depot?”

Sean grinned, looking like he relished the idea. “Yeah, nasty bit of business. Somebody must’ve got careless with a cigarette.”

Falman wasn’t Breda, but he could put things together when they were right in front of him. The Nazis were in control, and the way Sean was talking about this incident? If he wasn’t the one who blew up the depot, he knew the people who did.

The woman shook her head. “The Nazis are in a fury. They’ve been arresting suspected rebels, Sean they took Vittore!”

Sean’s grin disappeared like a homunculi without a philosopher’s stone. “Where?”

“ _La Villette_ , the old slaughterhouse. The prisoners are going to be shot, we must do something!”

Luc balled a fist. “Then there is no turning back now.”

Sean nodded, pounding his fist into his palm. “In for a penny, in for a fucking pound.” Sean and Luc went for the door of the brothel, Falman watching as they went before making his way over to the woman. She was fidgeting at the balcony, unsure of what to do or even how to think. Checking that none of the Nazis were close enough to hear (Or even sober enough to care), he went up to the woman. “Miss?”

The woman spun around in shock. “ _Mon dieu_ , you are American?”

Falman nodded. If there was an America, he could probably bluff through this acting like one. “Miss, I’m going to ask you a very dangerous question. I’m going to need you to answer honestly, do you understand?” She nodded, a little too fast for “calm”. “Are those two men going to fight the Nazis?” Another nod. “Then we need to talk to them, now.”

The woman shook her head. “I don’t understand-”

Falman nodded. “It’s a lot to explain, but it’s important that we talk to them before they do whatever they’re planning.”

The woman nodded, starting to wrap her head around the fact that Falman was offering to help two people she cared about. “ _Oui_ , yes of course. This way, we need to take my father’s truck.”

Falman nodded. “I’ll get my teammates, we’ll meet you at the front door.”

The woman’s face lit up. “Teammates? There are more Americans? _Mon dieu_ , this is wonderful!”

Falman motioned for her to keep calm, and more importantly, quiet. “Just meet us at the front door, alright?”

The woman nodded, rushing for the stairs. Falman was calmer, taking his time and walking back down to the first floor. He nodded to Breda and Fuery, then to the door. Watching the two move, he went to Havoc and Al.

Havoc turned when he noticed Falman. “What’ve you got?”

“Something useful,” Falman said. “There’s people here fighting the Nazis. One of the locals is gonna help us find them, hopefully we can at least figure out the situation before we get into anything bad.”

Havoc nodded, grinning as a Nazi soldier stumbled past. One second, his hands were empty. The next, he had a wad of paper bills on the bar. “Let’s go Al.”

Back together, the team walked out to see a beat-up old work truck waiting out front. The woman from inside was behind the wheel, looking nervous. “Hurry, we don’t have much time to stop them!”

Havoc jumped into the cab. “Not yet, we’ve got the rest of our team to pick up.”

The woman’s face brightened again. “More? I had thought America was focused on the Pacific, on the Japanese.”

“Well I guess we’re just a special case,” Havoc said. “Drive ahead, they’re down this street.”

The woman nodded, putting the truck in gear. As everyone groaned from the screeching transmission, she turned to Havoc. “My name is Veronique by the way, Veronique Rousseau.”

Havoc nodded. “Havoc. The tall guy’s Falman, the fat one’s Breda, the short one’s Fuery, and the blonde one is Elric.”

She nodded, steering the truck down the run-down street. “And there are still more of you. This is wonderful, I had thought we were alone. When the British fled at Dunkirk, it was like the world had forgotten we were still alive in Paris.”

Havoc kept himself calm, even as a thousand questions bombarded his brain. What was she talking about, Dunkirk? What did the British have to do with this? And where was Paris? It was a blessing when she pulled up to the hideout for the rest of the team. “Stop here.”

Veronique turned, and was shocked to see the rest of the team hurrying up. “These are you teammates? But, but I thought America and Japan -- ”

“We’re all Americans,” Havoc said, making it clear this wasn’t going to be an issue. “Now you need to get us to where we need to be.” With another screaming gear change, the truck was off.


	3. Chapter 2 - La Villette

**Chapter 2 - La Villette**

* * *

Bolin was already starting to hate this mission. Red-banners were everywhere, bearing the swastika triumphant over all. Nazi soldiers patrolled every sidewalk and watched every street corner with suspicious eyes. Cars full of them rolled by, with patrols occasionally stopping a random pedestrian to bully. Even the air wasn’t free, massive swastika-marked zeppelins patrolling the skies of the city

He looked over to see Korra struggling to keep herself under control. “I’m starting to see why you hate these guys Bolin.”

Bolin shook his head. “No, you really don’t.”

The truck bounced over a particularly uneven stone in the street, passing by a train station. Mako watched as they passed fortified positions filled with soldiers. “So what do we do? They’ve got this entire city locked down, we can’t fight all of them in one night.”

“We aren’t gonna,” Breda said. “Havoc’s not gonna throw us against an entire army. We’ll find whoever we can work with, but we won’t be going out fighting these Nazi guys every day. We’ll figure out who’s who and what’s what first. At least until we can get outta here.”

Bolin looked at Al. “What about Rod Serling? Can’t he help us?”

Al shrugged. “I don’t know. If he’s not here yet, maybe he thinks we have a chance.”

Asami grinned. “What a nice sentiment. Here’s hoping we don’t get killed because of it.”

Running water. Looking over the side of the bed, Bolin saw they were next to a canal. Further on, a building surrounded by more Nazi positions. The truck crossed over a bridge on the canal, passing a Nazi armored car with a main gun no one wanted to be in front of.

The truck screeched to a stop, Havoc popping out of the cab rubbing at his ears. “Alright, apparently that’s where the two targets are. Now once we-”

Sirens. Shouting. Gunfire. Turning toward the target, Havoc looked at Veronique with a mix of anger, confusion, and annoyance. “What the hell’s going on?”

Veronique sighed. “Sean, that’s what’s ‘going on’. He probably aroused suspicion, he’ll be killed if you don’t help him.”

Havoc sighed, glaring at the warehouse. “Well, we need them in debt to us. Alright, here’s how it goes. Falman, Fuery, Breda, you’re with me on the front. Once we’re inside the perimeter, Korra’s team will follow us. Veronique, you stay with them. Once we find these two, we can figure out a plan. Everyone got that? Alright, move!”

The front of the building was a massive gate, wrought iron and brick. Havoc was glad, because from the sounds of it? Sean was making an impression on the Nazis. Checking his revolver, he tapped his ammo lacrima. Then tapped it again. “Crap, these aren’t working either.”

Fuery sighed. “What now?”

Havoc saw two of the Nazis run by and grinned. “It’s okay, looks like their weapons are almost like ours back home. We’ll just grab’em off their bodies for now. You guys ready?” Havoc saw the trio nod. “Okay, here we go!”

The four charged into the compound, firing on the closest Nazis they could see. Three of them went down, and Havoc sprinted ahead into the courtyard of the place. There was a single clocktower in front of what looked like a warehouse, until the smell hit his nose. It was a slaughterhouse, and from where he stood it was still in business.

More shouts from inside the compound. Poking his head around, he saw the Nazis realize they were being attacked on two sides. Perfect. He saw the three dead men laying in front of some crates, their weapons just waiting for fresh hands. “I’m gonna run for it, cover me!”

Havoc kept count in his head. They could only give him five, maybe six seconds of good cover. As he sprinted across the open courtyard, he was hit by his mind with a very insulting though. “ _I’d better not get paralyzed again._ ” Diving for the crates, Havoc rolled to one of the dead men. Smiling, he picked up the submachine gun and checked it over. It was exactly like the Amestrian SMG 14, down to the magazine and the charging handle. Chambering a round, he peeked around his cover. The Nazis were firing on the gate, forgetting he even existed. Time to make them regret that.

He leaned out and fired on the Nazis, taking two of them as they tried to rush forward. “Falman!”

Havoc kept firing, hearing Falman dive into one of the crates next to him. Then he heard a second SMG chattering to his left.

Turning right, Havoc saw another group of Nazis trying to rush them. Havoc made them regret it, dropping two of them and scattering the rest. “Fuery!”

As Fuery went for the third body, Havoc reached down and grabbed some extra magazines from the corpse. Swapping out, he laid down more cover fire. “Breda!”

As Breda sprinted to cover, Havoc sprinted for the sandbags in front of the building. Jumping over them, he positioned himself to cover the right. The Nazis were shouting, trying to figure out what was happening and how to respond. It would’ve been funny if they weren’t so sad at it. Havoc fired another burst their way, until he saw them get cut down from their own right.

A man ran into Havoc’s view, ducking behind a larger crate and leaning around to fire behind him. He had a flat cap on, and a satchel swung from his left side. “ _Well, if that isn’t Sean I’m an idiot for getting us all here._ ”

The man ran up, nearly shooting Havoc until he ran and jumped behind the same sandbags. “Christ mate, I thought you were one of them!”

Havoc grinned, swapping magazines. The man had an accent close to Kavanaugh’s, Havoc guessing he might be “Irish” too. “Sorry to disappoint.”

The man stared at Havoc for a second, forgetting there was still a fight. “An American? Bloody hell, what took you so long to get here?”

“I’ll tell you later, where’s the prisoners we’re trying to rescue?”

The man nodded into the warehouse. “My bet’s the jailer’s inside too. C’mon, we don’t have much time before those bombers come in.”

Havoc thought he was going deaf for a minute, before he realized the man had said something he didn’t like. “Bombers? What do you mean bombers?”

The man grinned, peering into the warehouse. “Aye, whole lot of’em. Luc’s people have been giving targets to the Brits. Lucky us, this is one of’em.”

Havoc groaned, then rolled over to yell at Breda. “We’ve got bombs coming our way! Tell --”

Veronique’s truck came barreling into the compound, a man in a greatcoat behind the wheel. As Havoc watched, he tried to pull the truck into the slaughterhouse until a burst hit the door. The man cried out, and Havoc saw Veronique sprinting from the gate toward him.

Havoc groaned. “Breda, cover me!” A quick sprint from the sandbags to the truck later, Havoc was helping the man out. “Easy buddy, easy there.” The man looked up in surprise, but Havoc cut it off. “Yeah, American, we can talk later. What’re you doing?”

“I was trying to get transport,” he grunted. “I fear we don’t have enough time, the bombers are already en route.”

Havoc swore. “Great, now we’re all gonna die at a slaughterhouse.”

The man shook his head. “ _Non_ , we have a chance. This building, the basement is deep in the ground. If we get inside, we should be safe.”

Havoc nodded, turning to Veronique. “Get him inside, we’ll be right behind you. Team, covering fire! Korra, get your team inside the building now!”

Korra’s team sprinted across the courtyard, Havoc covering them as they went. As they ran, he heard it. Loud wailing sirens going off around the city. “Breda, get them inside!” As he covered the three, Havoc saw it at the edge of the sky. A flight of airplanes coming in low, taking fire from the ground. Cringing, he fired one last burst at the Nazis before ducking inside himself.

The group was a mess, wounded men being carried by his team to the back of the slaughterhouse. “Hurry, the bombers are almost here! Everyone in the basement, now!”

The group half-sprinted, half-hobbled on. Havoc picked out a man with blue suspenders, a man with a beard and leather jacket, and an old bald man in some kind of vestment following his team down into the basement. Seeing everyone rushing downstairs, he sprinted for the door and slammed it shut behind him. Three seconds later, the earth started to shake.

Sean smiled, wiping his forehead before turning to Veronique with a glare. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Veronique didn’t budge. “I followed you here.”

Luc looked up from Fuery trying to help stem the blood. “I am grateful for that.”

Sean shook his head. “That’s no excuse to me, Veronique. You nearly got yourself killed coming out here.”

Veronique turned on Sean. “If I hadn’t come out here, we wouldn’t have had any help against the Nazis when you started shooting. I think you should be thanking me for bringing these Americans here.”

Havoc didn’t like that all eyes were on him and his now. Still, it was too late to back out. Besides, it wasn’t like he could just dance out of this one. “Look, we just did what we need to so we could make contact. We had to find someone to talk with, otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere.”

“Well you have my gratitude,” Luc said, forcing himself up. “With the help of yourselves and the British, we will push back the Nazis and regain freedom for my people.”

Before Havoc could speak, Bolin was in front of him. “To do that we’ll need information sir. Resistance cells, contacts with the British government, and locations where the Nazis have the most concentrated presence. Also, how bad is your wound?”

Luc grinned, lowering himself back to the floor. “I’m fine. I just forgot to duck.”

Veronique shook her head. “No, that’s worse than it looks. He’ll need antibiotics at the least.”

Bolin knelt down with her. “Is there any way we can get some without being found?”

“The Germans control all the medical supplies. There may be another way though. That man with the beard?”

Sean scoffed. “The one grinning like a cat with a cream-flavored arsehole?”

Veronique ignored what the team was trying to ponder. “His name is Santos, I’ve seen him at the Belle. He’s a black marketeer, he can get what we need.”

Bolin nodded. “Then we need to talk with him.” Bolin nodded to Sean, and the pair walked over to the smuggler. Santos was busy smoking, looking over the ruined wreckage of the basement for anything of value. Bolin was struck by how much it reminded him of Varrick.

Sean started talking. “You’re the one called Santos?”

The bearded man smiled, standing up from his scrounging. “Who’s asking?”

“The ones who stopped those Krauts from decorating the walls with your brains.” Sean glared down at the man. “That’s who’s asking. And you’re gonna do us a favor.”

Santos’ smile brightened, and he opened his arms. “ _Claro que si._ What can I do for you, my friends?”

“Antibiotics, and maybe some pain medicine.” Bolin nodded over to Luc. “He won’t survive without it.”

Santos nodded. “I see. I can get you what you want, but it won’t come cheap. The black market, it is a barter system. I need something to trade for the medicine.”

Bolin nodded. “What kind of barter are we talking about?”

Santos chuckled. “Contraband, what else? You see, I sold a rare bottle of champagne to a German officer yesterday. Bring it back to me, it’s worth a small fortune to the right people. He said he was going to serve it at a private party, south of the Gare De L’Est.”

Sean scoffed. “And why is it I’m wondering if that bottle had anything to do with putting you in here?”

Bolin stepped forward. “We can get you the bottle. Just make sure you have the medicine ready when we get it.” Nodding to Sean, Bolin motioned to the others and went for the door.

Sean tapped some ash from his cigarette. “I see Americans don’t fool around. So tell me, how exactly are you planning to get that bottle?”

Bolin turned to Havoc, and all the seriousness on his face vanished. “I was hoping you had a plan?”

Sean sighed, taking the lead up into the ruined slaughterhouse. “First we’ll need to check the area near Gare De L’est. Ruining some Nazi party? It’s like Christmas came early. But what happens when we find them?”

“It’s an officer hosting a private party, meaning there’s gonna be plenty of other officers there.” Havoc smiled as he lit a fresh cigarette. “What do you think will happen when we find them?”

Sean grinned, walking with Havoc and Bolin out to the burning wreckage of the Nazi depot. “I love Americans.”

* * *

It wasn’t hard to find the party, they just needed to follow the sounds of a bunch of drunk idiots cheering and laughing. Sean grinned, staring at the guards in front of the stairs that led to the party. Two were taller men in heavy greatcoats carrying assault rifles. The third was a skinny weasel of a man in a leather coat and black fedora. Of course, all three worse the Nazi armband just to make it clear who they were. “Guess that’s it. Now we just need to grab that champagne before the tosser uncorks it.”

[Havoc nodded, lighting a fresh cig of his own.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H8Zs1xfxaq4) “Can’t believe they’re having a party so soon after an attack like that. I need to talk with me people for a second. Try not to kill anyone while you wait?” Getting a grin from Sean, Havoc turned and spoke with his team. “Well, we already killed a bunch of Nazis. I already know what Bolin’s gonna say, so I’m asking the rest of you. How much farther are we gonna go on this?”

Breda shrugged. “Like you said, we already shot up a prison they had. At this point we’re just gonna wait until someone comes to get us.” Falman and Fuery nodded in agreement.

Mako nodded to Bolin. “I’m good. Bolin already told me some of what the Nazis do. A is A? It needs an answer.”

Korra scratched her head. “We’re sure this isn’t too big of a risk? Like you said, we can’t take on an entire army.”

“We don’t have to take on their entire army,” Bolin said. “It’s like when the Equalists took over Republic City. We stick to the underground, we only fight when we have to. These people need help Korra, and we can do it for them.” Korra nodded. Even after all she’d learned, that was something she knew was never going to change about her. That desire to help the people who needed it. Asami put her hand in Korra’s, making it clear she was in too.

May turned to Al, leaving the alchemist in a tricky place. “Bolin, I need you to be clear about this. What will happen to us if we’re captured?”

Bolin shook his head. “You’ll probably be lucky. You’re blonde-haired, you look like you’re a German. Me? They’ll probably ship me to one of their camps. The kind people don’t come back from.”

Al wanted to make an argument, but Bolin’s eyes were set. The typically-cheery earthbender wasn’t making any jokes or funny faces now. He knew the stakes involving Nazis. Al had to trust him. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Havoc nodded, then turned back to Sean. “Alright, we’re ready when you are.”

Sean grinned, and reached into his satchel. He pulled out a pistol and turned to the guards. “Let’s have the craic then.”

Havoc’s eyes bugged out, realizing the guards had seen Sean’s pistol. He didn’t have time to say anything though, because Sean put the entire magazine into the Nazis.

Havoc groaned, sprinting forward to grab the dropped weapons. Grabbing one of the assault rifles, he tossed the other to Breda as Falman and Fuery went over the man in the black leather coat. There was a shout from the top of the stairs, and Havoc saw a Nazi charging at them with his rifle up. Havoc put a burst into the man, and the Nazi wound up rolling down the stairs like a doll dropped by a child. Havoc grabbed the rifle as the man rolled and tossed it to Fuery.

Moving up the stairs, he and Sean saw a group of women trying to run from the party. Another pair of Nazis tried to catch them, until Sean charged through the crowd and tackled one of them. Havoc took his chance, and as the second tried to figure out what to do Havoc smashed the butt of his assault rifle into the man’s face. They were in the middle of a small patio between the apartments, filled with casks of wine and crates of food. Apparently Nazi officers like to have the finer things in life. Turning back, he saw the rest of the team running up, Korra’s team still unarmed.

More shouts. Havoc saw another set of stairs. A Nazi came charging out, and he was cut down. Then another Nazi came charging out, and was cut down. Finally, a third Nazi came charging out and got cut down. Everyone paused, looked at each other, then went back to securing the champagne. Charging up the next flight of steps, they were greeted with a seating area covered in Nazi banners. Havoc didn’t notice, keeping his eyes ahead, that Bolin made it a point to tear down every banner he could see.

There was a flight of stairs leading down now, Havoc seeing the last of the crowd sprinting away from it. There was a collection of Nazis in the mix too, drunk and stumbling fools who probably didn’t know which way was up. Havoc took his time moving down the stairs, taking single shots to try and keep from hitting the civilians. Sean was more hot blooded, taking two steps at a time as he fired from the hip. Havoc was about to chew him out for putting the civilians in danger, until he noticed that the shots were almost as accurate as his from the shoulder.

Clearing the dining area, Havoc heard shots from farther ahead. He saw a podium emblazoned with the swastika, an officer behind it firing wild with his pistol. Sean grinned, raising his own pistol and dropping the man with a shot to the head. That wasn’t important, Havoc was too busy looking for the champagne bottle.

“There it is,” Sean said. Following, Havoc saw the bottle sitting proud atop a banister. Sprinting ahead, he ducked as a pistol popped off to his left. Rolling, he saw another black leather trench coat firing at him. Havoc ignored the man’s shouting, putting two rounds through his chest. Taking a breath, Havoc stood and saw Sean taking the champagne in hand. “Great, we’ve got it. Now we need to get outta here.”

“No problem,” Sean said, slipping the champagne into his satchel. “I know this place, there’s a good spot to hide until they give up looking for us. C’mon, this way.” For a second, Havoc thought Sean was going into one of the apartments. Then Sean started climbing up the side of the building.

Breda groaned, hearing the sirens close in. “Jeez, is he serious?”

May was already bounding up the walls, flipping onto the roof Sean had clambered up to. “What’s wrong?”

Havoc sighed. “C”mon buddy, we’ll give you a boost.”

* * *

After two hours and no one coming to grab them, the team re-emerged into the open air. Stashing the weapons, the group made a slow beat back to La Villette. Santos was outside the building in the courtyard, next to a dark blue convertible. Sean reached into his satchel and pulled out the champagne. “Here, your expensive booze.”

Santos smiled, gold flashing in his eyes as he took it. “Ah, vintage 1922. _El primero!_ Lucky for us that major didn’t have a chance to open it, eh?”

Bolin stepped forward. “Then you have the medicine?”

Santos nodded, reaching into his pockets to pull out two glass vials and a needle. “I have what you requested right here. In fact, they say I am like the postal service: Always reliable!”

Sean rolled his eyes, making to walk away. “Uh huh. Well, cheers.”

“ _Un momento, Irishman,_ ” Santos said, reaching for Sean. “You are out of a job, correct? I might have work for a man of your talents.”

Sean shook his head. “Sorry, I’m on holiday.”

Santos grinned. “Then I might have something else that would interest you and your friends. Come find me, my place is across the street from the Belle.”

Fuery looked to Sean. “I’ve got some experience as a medic. I’ll help with giving Luc the antibiotics.”

“We’ll talk with our friend here,” Havoc said. As Sean and Fuery went for the basement of La Villette, Havoc turned to Santos. “You’re not dumb, you know we can give you plenty of what you need in exchange for weapons.”

Santos nodded. “Yes, thinking like all Americans. Don’t think me a fool, I know that this could be a brilliant opportunity for making money. I just need to know that my investments will be worthwile. As I said to our friend, I will be waiting by my ‘office’ across from the Belle. You’ll find me there. _Buenos tardes, senor._ ”

Watching Santos walk off, Havoc turned to Korra and Asami. “What do you think?”

“I don’t think we can trust him,” Asami said. “He’s a mercenary, only in it for the money. If we do start buying from him, we’ll need to keep a close eye on what he does.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Flicking his cigarette away, he started walking back to the Belle. “Let’s get some rest. Last thing any of us needs is to keep going like we’re half-dead zombies.”


	4. Chapter 3 - The Black Market

**Chapter 3 - The Black Market**

* * *

Al blinked a few times, trying to remember where he was as he woke up. He looked around the dull gray concrete room, seeing boxes and scantily clad women on posters and a large radio to the side. Turning, he saw May asleep on the only bed in the room. Korra and Asami were together on a worn couch, heads on each other’s shoulders. Rubbing his eyes, Al looked up and blushed at the sight of a washline hanging in the room with a dozen revealing pieces of lingerie hanging down.

There was a grunt to the side, Al looking over to see Havoc stretching out. “Hey Al,” he said, standing up and arching his back. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Al said, shaking his head clear.

“Good, we’d better get started,” Havoc said, going to where Breda was sleeping next to a cello. “Hey, Breda, c’mon it’s time to wake up.”

Breda groaned, looking up at Havoc for a second before he said, “You know, you aren’t the face I was hoping to see when I woke up in a brothel in the morning.”

“Nice to see you too,” Havoc said, grinning as he walked over to Korra. “Hey, Korra, we need to get moving.”

Korra groaned, shifting as she sat up. “Jeez, what a night. Ugh, we still stink like that slaughterhouse.”

“Well don’t worry, I think you’ll enjoy seeing where we’re staying,” Havoc said, grinning. Al realized that because they came in the back, Korra hadn’t seen the kind of building they were hiding out in. “Let’s go talk to our new friends, huh?”

Sighing, Al and Korra followed Havoc to a canvas panel set into the wall. Peeking out of it, Havoc grinned and pulled out another cigarette. “Last one,” he sighed. “Better find a way to get some more.” Smiling back at the pair, he pulled the panel open and walked into the room.

Al and Korra’s jaws dropped as they followed Havoc into a dressing room. A dressing room where the women weren’t really “dressed” for anything in public. Al and Korra gaped at the sight of bare breasts hanging free, shapely legs in fine silk stockings and garters, plump lips in crimson lipstick. The women cupped their chests to make sure everything sat right, ran their hands along their legs to make sure there were no runs or tears. There was even a bouquet of roses in front of one of the mirrors, a trio of women whispering to each other and giggling.

Havoc looked back and had to hold back a laugh. Al’s scientific mind didn’t know what to make of what he was seeing, it was running straight into a brick wall of hormones and instinct. Korra was worse, given her mouth threatening to slam through the carpet, past the foundation, and into the earth’s core. Her eyes were wide, flitting from chest to chest like she was trying to both avoid staring at anything for too long and simultaneously memorize everything she saw.

“Oh, good morning monsieur,” one of the women said, a blonde with fine long legs and shapely hips. Her voice was peppy, perky, and of so alluring. “Sean told me to have you meet him at a table upstairs.” She giggled, looking at Al and Korra. “Dear me, are your friends shy around new people?”

“They’ve never seen such beautiful women before is all,” Havoc said, grinning as he lit up. “We can make our introductions later. C’mon you two, say goodbye for now.” Al and Korra mumbled out something in Brain-Dead, following Havoc out as the woman blew them both a kiss and turned one of her best features toward them.

Making their way up the stairs, the trio made their way to a seating area in the back where Sean was sitting. “Top o’ the mornin’,” he said, raising a tumbler of whisky. “Good to see you all up and about then.”

“Glad to be up and about,” Havoc said, sliding into his chair. “How’s Luc?”

“Better now he’s got those drugs,” Sean said, sipping at his drink. “We still need to deal with Santos, and…” Sean trailed off, staring at Al and Korra. Havoc saw why when he realized Al and Korra were still staring at the women on the second floor.

“You’re gonna have to go easy on them,” Havoc said, taking a drag. “They’re great in a fight, but I’m pretty sure this is the first time they’ve seen a pair of breasts.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Sean said, grinning as he set his glass down. “Being a good Catholic boy and all.”

Havoc chuckled, tapping his ash off into the tray on the table. “Let’s get to it then, what do we need to do?”

“Luc wants to set up a system with Santos and his people,” Sean said, shaking his head. “I don’t like it myself, dealt with men like Santos before and it nearly got me killed.”

“It’s not like we have much of a choice,” Havoc said, glancing down at the Nazis crowding the floor in front of the stage. “Pretty ballsy, using this place as your hideout.”

“Not like those drunk bastards would have any idea,” Sean said, grinning. “They’re too busy goosestepping and leering at tits to notice.”

“All the better for us,” Havoc said. “Okay, we’ll go talk to Santos.”

“First things first, you’ll all need some new clothes,” Sean said. “You all smell like the garbage outside the Belle.” Sean paused, shaking his head at Al and Korra. “Look, do these two need a night with the girls?”

Havoc turned to see them both still staring, and sighed.

* * *

Maj. Kurt Dierker strode proudly through the Wehrmacht’s command headquarters in the Pantheon. Some of the older officers glared at him, but Kurt took pride in their jealousy. He bore _schutzstaffel_ proudly on his collar, bearing the authority of the SS wherever he went. The Wehrmacht had been the hammer of Germany’s expansion, but everyone knew it was the glory and brilliance of the SS that made the world tremble. It helped that Dierker lived up to the image of the ideal Aryan. A fit, tall, muscular figure, with pure blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. The future of the German people once the mongrel blood was bred out.

Gen. Karl Eckhardt didn’t notice Dierker’s approach, he was too busy talking with one of his men. A man of forty-five years, with graying black hair and thougtful brown eyes staring to gain lines everywhere on his face. “ _Gutten morgen, Herr general._ ”

Eckhardt turned, a look of annoyance on his face. “Ah, Maj. Dierker. How good to see you this late in the day. What does the Gestapo want today? More men to send after goatherds and fishermen?”

Dierker’s smile didn’t shrink. “Nothing so typical, Herr general. I was just curious about the incidents in the north of the city.”

Eckhardt turned back to his aide. “The Wehrmacht has these issues under investigation, Dierker. If we do need your assistance, rest assured I would go to your commanders when it is necessary.”

Dierker shook his head. Eckhardt was of the old age, concerned only with technology and machines. Eckhardt was thinking similar thoughts about Dierker, that the major was too obsessed with the purity and appearance of the German people. Both men considered their own ideals the future of Germany, and that his opposite was a dog barking at the moon.

“It is of a concern to the Gestapo,” Dierker said. “A fuel depot, now the precise bombing of our base on the canal? Followed by the murder of so many fine German officers? This is becoming more than coincidence sir.”

Eckhardt motioned for his aide to leave, turning to face Dierker. “Then what is the Gestapo’s plan to handle this situation, Dierker? I have heard little from your agents and forces regarding this resistance.”

Dierker’s smile shrank a little. “Forgive me, sir. I had thought the SS were best utilized carrying out the work of the Reich against its greatest enemies.”

Eckhardt’s eyes narrowed. “Are those enemies here right now? Are they the ones sabotaging our efforts? Perhaps I was wrong to support your efforts to the point, Dierker.”

Dierker let the insult slide off his back. “Perhaps, but now my own efforts have shown my worth to the Fuhrer’s cause. Of course, should you need assistance against these threats? I am always available.”

Eckhardt nodded. “Very well. Now, I have work to do. Good day, Maj. Dierker.”

Dierker snapped to attention. “Good day, Gen. Eckhardt.” Turning about, Dierker kept his smile up until he was back in his staff car. Franziska waited inside, sprawled out on the backseat. She wore her uniform well, her leather jacket and corset and tight leather pants displaying her fit and toned body to anyone that saw her. “Well, how did it go?”

“The pompous fool refuses to accept that there’s a problem,” Dierker said, sitting down as Franziska went for the bottle of schnaps and glasses in the back. “All the better for us. He’ll ignore the resistance until it’s too late, and then we will swoop down and seize the glory for ourselves.” Grinning Dierker took his glass from Franziska. “Then I will be in command of the Paris garrison.”

The dreams of the future were interrupted by a hard bump, and Dierker was left with his drink staining his uniform.

* * *

“Here we are,” Monsieur Rousseau said, setting a basket of clothes down in the back room. “I apologize, it took some time to gather everything we’d need. The Germans seem to have taken every scrap of cloth in the city.”

“That’s fine sir,” Havoc said, watching as the teams started digging through the clothes. “We appreciate any help you’re willing to give.”

“And I am thankful that you wish to help Sean,” Mssr. Rousseau said, clapping Havoc on the shoulder. Havoc realized that despite the man’s prodigious gut, there was still some strength in the man’s arms. If he had any hair to go with his beard Havoc would've thought it was this universe's double of Sig Curtis. “He was our son Jules’ friend, they were like brothers. Your willingness to help him fight the Nazis is something we can never repay.”

Havoc nodded, moving over to the basket and pulling through the clothes. “We’re gonna try and see what Santos wants from us,” he said, pulling out a pair of dull brown slacks. “Once we have a network for getting weapons and goods from his contacts, we’ll be in a more secure position.”

“Guess it’s a good thing we all went to the range,” Bolin said. “We’d be in real trouble if we hadn’t learned something.”

“Yeah, that was pretty convenient,” Korra said, looking up as she set a light blue shirt aside. “You don’t think…” Everyone stared at each other for a second, then as one said, “Naaaah.”

Sean waited at the front of the Belle, grinning at the woman behind the coat check until he noticed movement to his right.

Havoc walked out in brown jacket and slacks, a white shirt under it. His fedora was tilted just enough to look stylish, not enough to be silly. Korra had opted for a blue shirt, gray slacks with suspenders, and a flat cap. “Well, at least neither of you smells like rotten beef,” Sean said, nodding to the coat check girl as he went for the door. “C’mon, let’s go meet our friendly neighborhood marketeer.”

The pair followed Sean into the twilight, toward a building with a bright red neon sign that read, “ _Femmes Femmes Femmes!_ ” Making their way around the rear of the building, Sean led them into a small courtyard stacked with goods. Havoc saw a bushel of bananas hanging from a lamp, fresh vegetables and ripe fruits. Two baskets of bread, and rows of fuel cans lined up on shelves.

Santos sat behind a small desk, smiling as the trio approached. “Ah, _mi compadres,_ ” he said, smiling as he rose from his seat. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”

“Let’s call it an investment,” Sean said, glaring at the man. “Now what was it you wanted to talk to us about?”

“Straight to business then,” Santos said, grinning. “I can see that you are a busy man, Irishman. I can provide you and your friends with the ‘tools’ you need to conduct your personal business.”

Sean’s eyebrow rose. “Like what?”

Santos’s grin went from genial to devilish. “Guns, ammunition, explosives, anything you need. I supply these items to your group, discretely, at a reasonable price.”

“Right,” Sean scoffed. “I don’t suppose you’d take a personal check?”

Santos laughed, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“So, it’s all in trade then,” Havoc said. “What will you take in exchange?”

“Contraband of course,” Santos said, spreading his arms. “German military supplies are the best, and there are German installations all over Paris and the countryside. Bring me what you find, and I can see that your needs are met.” Korra’s eyes narrowed. She looked over to Havoc, seeing him shake his head. Message received, now wasn’t the right time to say anything stupid. Not when she couldn’t bend.

“And let me guess,” Sean said. “We need to pay a fee to even get into this little racket you’re running?”

“Well yes, a small donation to cover expenses,” Santos said, his grin turning friendly again. “Like you said, consider it an investment in your future. There is a German watchtower just across the street. If you eliminate it, my people can move more freely around my headquarters here. After that, we can continue our discussions.”

“Fine,” Sean said, tossing his cigarette on the ground. “And how do we get rid of this tower?”

Santos reached beneath his desk, then tossed a bundle of dynamite sticks to Sean. Korra flinched, expecting the explosives to go off. Havoc didn’t, watching as Sean caught the explosives with one hand. “As I said, take out the tower and you’ll open up my business. Good luck, Irishman, you and your American friends will need it.”

Sean nodded, going back into the street as he tucked the dynamite into his satchel. “Well, this just go interesting,” he said, pulling a fresh cigarette out. “What’re you worried about? Just some dynamite.”

“Dynamite that explodes,” Korra said, glaring at Sean. “Look, how are we supposed to take the tower out? I’m pretty sure the Nazis are gonna have it guarded.”

“Those idiots are too busy watching the skies,” Sean said, grinning as he walked back toward the Belle. “They aren’t expecting someone to plant a bomb at the base of it. Especially after they’ve climbed up the side of a building.”

“Wait, what,” Havoc said, stopping to stare at Sean. “That’s your plan? Climb up the side of a building to get to the tower?”

“Hey, the Nazis won’t expect it,” Korra said, giving Havoc a sarcastic grin.

“C’mon, times wasting,” Sean said. Checking the street to see there were no soldiers around, he jumped up and grabbed hold of a window ledge, boosting himself up the side of the building.

“Okay, this guy’s officially nuts,” Korra said. Sighing, she rolled her arms before following Sean’s path up. Grimacing, Havoc stomped out his cigarette and followed. He heard a few people on the ground below speaking in confused voices, and he tried to ignore it. If the Nazis were occupiers in Paris, wherever that was, they wouldn’t be the quickest to report weird goings on. He was more worried about keeping his grip as he scaled the building. “ _C’mon, I just got these legs back! This is so unfair, why can’t I stay on the ground?_ ”

Reaching the roof, Havoc saw Sean and Korra crouched behind a chimney next to a table with wine bottles on it. “Took you long enough,” Sean said, not looking back.

“Sorry, not used to clambering up other people’s apartments,” Havoc gasped, moving over to the pair. “What’ve we got?”

“One sentry, and not a very alert one at that,” Sean said, grinning. Havoc looked over to see a metal platform, a single soldier with a rifle staring at the clouds. “He’s too busy watching the skies to check the ground.”

“Then Santos is testing us,” Havoc said. “How do you want to do it?”

Sean moved for the side of the building. “I’ll set the bomb, you two watch from here.”

“Got it,” Havoc said. “Be careful, we’ll cover you if anything goes wrong.”

Korra waited until Sean was out of earshot before turning to Havoc. “Santos is testing us? Why? Didn’t we get him out of trouble?”

“It might’ve been a fluke,” Havoc said. “Right now, he wants to see how we do on our own.”

“Oh, that’s just great,” Korra said, looking out on the city. Her eyes caught on something in the distance, a great bright tower jutting up from the center of town. “Wow…”

“Hey, stay focused,” Havoc said, elbowing her. “Keep a lookout for any Nazis that try to shoot Sean, got it?”

“Right,” Korra said, shaking the sight away and looking around. There was another tower nearby, the guard turned away from them as he smoked. Other than him, there was no other Nazi around to worry about.

Havoc watched as Sean jumped down the side of the building, crouching as he landed on another rooftop. Skirting along the shingles, he dropped down onto another roof before he stopped at the base of the watchtower Santos wanted gone. He watched as the Irishman pulled the dynamite out of his satchel, then set it at the base of the tower. Lighting a cigarette, he lit the fuse with the same match and started running. “Korra, brace yourself.”

Korra tensed, shutting her eyes and ducking. Until a few seconds passed. “Uh, so when will it -- ”

The blast shook the buildings, the metal tower collapsing as the people on the street screamed out. Havoc wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard laughter as well.

“Spirits!” Korra shouted, falling back with the blast. “Jeez, how much did he need to use?”

Havoc didn’t answer, he kept his eye on the other Nazi in the far tower. The man spun around, shouting as he raised his rifle. It didn’t matter, Sean was already scaling the wall to rejoin the pair. “What do you think,” he said, smiling as he crouched behind the chimney. “That oughta make things easier for Santos, eh?”

“Nice job,” Havoc said, returning the smile. “C’mon, let’s get back to him.”

Dropping down the side of the street-side of the building, the three walked to Santos’ headquarters. The black marketeer opened his arms and called out, “ _Bien_ , my friends, wonderful! Unfortunately, there is still one more matter to attend to.”

“One more,” Korra said, glaring at the smuggler. “You only said it was the tower?”

“Yes, but the tower was the idea of a particularly troublesome customer of mine,” Santos said, his expression apologetic. “He was unhappy with the quality of a certain shipment I sent him last week, hence why I was thrown in that awful prison.”

“Suppose some people don’t understand the cost of doing business,” Sean said. “I imagine you want this customer spoken to?”

“And that he can never speak ill of my product again,” Santos said. “He’s a very nervous man, and will undoubtedly investigate your work. The best place he could be to oversee that matter would be a small alley just behind the tower.”

“Then we’ll be moving there,” Havoc said. “Hopefully this is the end of testing us?”

“One must always be sure about the competency of their business partners,” Santos said, shrugging. “I recommend you move, before the cordon around the area is tightened.”

“You two go,” Havoc said, moving for the street. “I’ll get everyone else, you two take care of the general.”

“Right, we’re on it,” Sean said, nodding to Korra. “C’mon then, let’s get moving.” Korra blinked, following Sean back out onto the street and turning away from the direction of the Belle.

“And now we’re killing one of their officers,” Korra grumbled. “Aren’t we just doing Santos’ dirty work?”

“That’s what we need to win him over,” Sean said. “Or at least work with us and not turn us over to the Krauts.”

“Yeah, this all sounds like a great situation to be in,” Korra groaned. “What’s the plan? We aren’t gonna get close enough to make sure he’s killed without risking our lives.”

“That’s what you think,” Sean said, seeing a Nazi soldier walking their way. “Wait for it, then help me with him.”

Korra wanted to ask, until she saw Sean step into a doorway. Realizing what was about to happen, she kept her face placid and let the Nazi walk by. The soldier sneered at her, Korra seeing venom in his eyes as he mutter something about “unter-mensch”. She ignored it, then turned around in time to see Sean clamp a hand over the man’s mouth and drag him inside. Korra spun around and went in the building, in time to see Sean snap the man’s neck.

“Well, at least I know what you’re trying,” Korra said, shutting the door. “What do you, aw, yuck! What’s that stink?”

“Bastard must’ve had to go before he died,” Sean said, stripping the soldier’s blouse. “Looks like I won’t be wearing his trousers then.”

“Can you at least speak the language,” Korra asked. “We need to make sure they won’t get too suspicious.”

“ _Jawohl, ja, nien,_ all that bollocks,” Sean said, buttoning the blouse and grabbing the soldier’s cap and rifle. “There, how’s it look?”

“As long as they don’t try to talk to you I guess,” Korra said, shaking her head. “C’mon, let’s get away from this stink before it gets in these clothes too.”

It was a few more minute walk to where Santos had hinted, but there was a problem. Korra winced at the sight of another Nazi armored car, with a turret, right in front of where the officer was. Korra knew he was already inside because of the angry shouting and hurrying subordinates.

“Alright, you stay here,” Sean said, . “You’ll know when to come and get me.”

“Yeah, great, try not to get killed,” Korra said. She watched Sean sling the rifle over his shoulder, adjusting his cap to cover his eyes as he moved behind the armored car. Korra watched as a pair of German soldiers glanced his way before going back to their talk. She leaned against a building and waited. She felt her muscles tense, not knowing when Sean was going to make the move. Granted, she wasn’t an emotional wreck like when Amon took away her bending. If anything, she was starting to get used to the idea that she could survive without it. “ _I’d like to have it though,_ ” she thought. “ _Don’t want to risk getting anyone killed because I can’t shoot straight._ ”

A gunshot. Another gunshot. The two Nazis by the armored car turned, grabbing their weapons. Korra realized she didn’t have a gun on her, and had to make a choice. She could stand there, wait for a sign that Sean was in trouble, and then act. Or she could run up, take both the Nazis out, and you already know what’s going to happen for God’s sake, why are you even thinking there’s a choice?

Korra sprinted to one of the Nazis and jumped, catching him straight between the eyes with her fist. The second Nazi tried to raise his gun at her, but she vaulted over the back of the armored car and kicked him across the face. Looking around, she heard more gunfire in the distance. Looking down, she grabbed the Nazi’s weapon and checked it over. It was different from the ones she trained with, a stamped-metal thing with a box magazine sticking out the front. Still, she recognized all the important pieces. She noticed that there was a notch cut out above the charging handle, she wondered if that was a mechanism to keep the bolt from moving, a different kind of safety than a lever beside the pistol grip. She ejected the magazine, saw there were rounds, and nodded. “ _Okay, you can do this, you just need to shoot anyone with a red armband._ ” She gulped and thought, “ _And make sure Tenzin_ never _hears about this._ ”

She scanned the street, hearing shouts and panicked cries. She saw movement from where the general had been, but calmed down when she saw Sean running out with a pistol in hand and flat cap back on his head. He saw Korra and shouted, “C’mon, one more thing to take care of!”

“What,” Korra shouted, turning to see Sean putting a spare stick of dynamite in the engine of the armored car. “Are you serious?”

“You want this thing coming after us?” Despite his tone, Korra saw how wide Sean’s smile was as he lit the fuse. “Okay, get movin’!” Korra didn’t need telling twice, and ten seconds later she was nearly thrown off her feet by the explosion. The pair kept sprinting back in the direction of the Belle. Korra ran up the street, almost firing on when she saw a gun. She stopped when she realized it was Breda holding it. “C’mon, up here,” he shouted. Korra and Sean sprinted up, seeing Havoc and his team had set up a position to hold the Nazis off from.

“Get back to the Belle,” Sean called out. “We’ll hide out in Santos’ place for now.”

“Got it,” Breda called out. “Get to us when you can!”

Korra and Sean beat their feet away, back to Santos’ courtyard headquarters as the sirens faded in the distance. “Ah, I see you have been busy my friends,” he said, smiling that same obnoxious smile. “That means our problems are solved?”

“It means we did your chores for ya,” Sean said, glaring at the man.

Santos started laughing and said, “ _Muy bien!_ I think this is the beginning of a very profitable friendship.” Yeah, Korra couldn’t deny the same feeling from Santos she felt from Varrick. “You can trade with any one of my men in the city. Keep assisting our operations, and we will assist yours. For a nominal fee, of course.”

“Well that's grand then,” Sean said, shaking his head. “C’mon, let’s get back to the Belle.” As they walked, Sean looked over at Korra. “So, what’d you think?”

“I think you’re nuts,” Korra said, glaring at Sean. “But I know a guy that would’ve done the exact same thing where I come from, so I can at least give you some credit. Plus, you’re not giving me any grief for being myself.”

“Being fair, I don’t know enough about you to give you grief for it,” Sean said, smiling as the pair walked toward the Belle. “Still, seeing you take those two down? You know how to handle yourself in a fight. I can respect that.”

“I’ll take it,” Korra said, smiling back. “I think we’re gonna get along fine.”

“As long as you and the boy learn that tits exist,” Sean said, grabbing the front door of the Belle. “If you’re gonna stay here, you’d best learn to get used to it.”

“Hey, I’m used to it,” Korra argued. “I mean I have those, it’s just, well they aren’t mine!” Sean was laughing as the two stepped back into the Belle.


	5. Chapter 4 - Informants and Grand Theft

**Chapter 4 - Informants and Grand Theft**

“Alright, I’ve got a map of the city,” Havoc said, spreading it out on one of the boxes in the back. “Now, we don’t know when we’re gonna get picked up from this mess. If we’re lucky they’ll see the MALP they sent earlier and figure out the recalls don’t work. Someone needs to volunteer to keep an eye on that alley until we find out more.”

“I’ll do it,” Bolin said. He’d managed to find a dark green shirt, already rolling the sleeves up, and brown trousers with suspenders. “Anything to get me away from those monsters in the main room.”

“Alright, we’ll send someone to check in on you every few hours.” Looking down at the map, Havoc traced his finger along the north of the city. “We’re in this area, near a major rail station, Gare de L’est. The Nazis aren’t concerned with this area right now, to them it’s not as important as the major centers of government and finance deeper in the city.”

“They’re also treating the people here like crap,” Korra said. “That’s what let Noatak start the Equalists in Republic City, the government didn’t realize how it was treating people.”

“It’s more than that,” Bolin said. “The Nazis wanted to destroy everything that wasn’t what they considered Aryan. They destroyed works of art, burned countless books, they did everything they could to wipe out people’s cultures as well as their lives.” Everyone stared at Bolin for a second. They accepted that the Nazi connection had affected him, but right now he was a different person. The carefree, goofy earthbender was gone right now, replaced with a vengeful, dour, bitter man that wanted to take revenge on his past for the things he helped do.

“In that case, it’ll be easier to organize a resistance,” Havoc said, pressing through the thick discomfort in the air. “Sean’s out talking with Luc, he said when he got back there’d be a plan for what happens next.”

“What about us,” Asami asked. She’d donned a long dark skirt and black blouse, looking like she’d melt into the shadows if they let her. “How long as we supposed to keep acting like we’re American? What if someone finds out?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Havoc said. “We can’t tell these people we’re from another dimension, they wouldn’t believe it without proof. If anyone does ask for additional information, we only tell them that our mission is classified, and that we aren’t allowed to talk about ourselves in any way.”

“You think that’ll be enough Havoc,” Al asked. “What if they ask us questions about things only an American would know?”

“That’d be kinda impressive, considering these people aren’t American either,” Havoc said. He reached for his pocket, fished around for a few seconds, then sighed when he remembered he was out of cigs. “That be like someone passing themselves off as a Cretan in East City, how could we figure a way to know if they’re telling the truth?”

“That’s a lot you’re putting on us being lucky,” Falman said. “Even up in Briggs, that much on lucky wouldn’t be a sign of confidence.”

“There’s not much else we can do,” Havoc said. “Until we get word back to the SGC that they’re gonna need some crazy trick to get us back, we’re stuck. But hey,” Havoc grinned. “At least we’re all together.”

There was a loud rumbling noise, everyone looking down at their stomachs. “Yeah, breakfast might be a good idea.”

* * *

Al had to admit, the breakfast wasn’t quite as heavy as he expected. It made up for that in quality, the _croissant_ so buttery and flaky he couldn’t get enough. They all ate at one of the tables on the second floor of the Belle, the place empty of customers and Nazis for now. The girls of the house strutted about in more casual clothes, but Al and Korra still blushed at remembering how they were dressed the night before. “I’m sorry we can’t do more,” Mdme. Rousseau said, bowing her head in embarrassment as she set down a plate of bacon. “The Germans, they have rationed almost everything.”

“It’s more than enough ma’am,” Asami said, smiling at the woman as she sipped her coffee. “We’re thankful you’re letting us stay here.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Havoc said. “The Nazis will be searching for whoever keeps causing trouble. If we don’t keep moving, we’re putting everyone here in danger.”

“You won’t have many places to stay then,” Sean said, leaning back in his chair with his feet kicked up on the table he sat at. “All we have are the Belle and La Villette. Everywhere else, we don’t know who we can trust to keep quiet.”

“There’s gotta be somewhere,” May asked. “Some part of the city that’s abandoned, where no one goes.”

“So there you are.” Everyone turned at the voice to see Veronique walking up to them. “We’ve been looking for you all night, Sean. Luc said the Nazis were attacked, one of their generals was killed.”

“That so,” Sean said, grinning. “Sounds like someone was busy last night, eh Korra?” Korra grunted, grabbing some of the bacon.

“I can’t believe how flippant you are,” Veronique said, going over to Mdme. Rousseau. “ _Maman_ , how can you put up with him?”

“He’s doing what he can to help fight the Nazis Veronique,” Mdme. Rousseau said. “I’m surprised you’re so bitter about it.”

“That’s why these Americans are here,” Veronique said, smiling at the teams. “At least they aren’t drinking this early in the morning.” Sean scoffed, taking another drink.

“Agreed, I still can’t believe I agreed to let him be my driver.” Everyone looked back, seeing a man walking toward them with Mssr. Rousseau. He was an older man with a graying beard and a square jaw. He was still in decent shape, and was smiling as he walked up to Sean.

“Vittore,” Sean said, sounding like a thankful son whose father had come back from a long journey. “Good to see you.”

“You as well,” Vittore said, embracing Sean. “If you and your friends hadn’t arrived when you did…”

“Nothing to get excited about,” Havoc said. Vittore’s face shifted as he heard Havoc’s voice. “How’re you doing sir? Jean Havoc, I guess you could call me and my friends tourists.”

“Quite a dangerous time to be going on tours of other countries,” Vittore said, breaking the embrace to shake Havoc’s hand. “Vittore Morini. Thank you for saving me.”

“Thank him,” Havoc said, nodding to Sean. “He was already shooting up the place when we arrived.”

“Yes, Sean is rather direct,” Vittore said, smiling as he wrapped his arm around Sean’s shoulder. “It’s good to know he has some friends to help him not be killed.”

“Speaking of,” Sean said, turning serious. “Why were you there in the first place, Vittore? I hadn’t heard from you since we got to Paris. I figured you’d be keeping quiet and laying low.”

“I was,” Vittore said, scowling. “The Gestapo had been searching for us it seems. I was recognized by an informant, that’s why I was waiting to be killed.”

“Lovely fella,” Sean growled. “Any idea who the rat might be?”

“None,” Vittore said. “I did learn that he’s planning to meet with a Nazi officer outside the Belle. Anything else, I have nothing.”

“Really now,” Sean said, eyes turning devious. “Perhaps we should have a talk with this informant, see what else he knows.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Vittore said. “I know that the German informants are given letters with instructions. The officer in question prefers to start his mornings in the plaza outside _Sacré-Cœur_. If you could follow the officer to where they exchange the letter and his payment, you could take the scoundrel before he has a chance to collect his thirty pieces of silver.”

“I think we should pay him the way we did back home,” Sean said. “With thirty pieces of lead.”

“Sounds like a decent idea,” Havoc said, drinking half his coffee in one go. “Falman, take Asami and Mako with you on that. Korra, Fuery, we’re gonna go have another talk with Santos. I’m thinking we can try and squeeze a little more blood from that stone with the right favors. Veronique, sorry to impose but can you take Breda, Al, and May to see Luc? If there’s a resistance we’d like to know how we can help it.”

“ _Oui monsieur_ ,” Veronique said, smiling. “I’ll bring them to La Villette.”

Havoc nodded and turned to Bolin. “You ready to take care of your end?”

“Yeah,” Bolin said, getting up from the table, smiling as Mdme. Rousseau. “Thanks again for the breakfast, it was delicious.”

“Oh, it was no problem at all,” Mdme. Rousseau said, batting her eyes at Bolin. “A strapping young man like you needs to eat well for the work you’re doing.” Bolin blushed a little, and sped for the door.

“Guess that means breakfast is over,” Sean said, throwing back the last of his drink. “Let’s go then, we’ve got work to do.”

* * *

Asami glared at the speakers blaring propaganda through the streets. Warnings about curfews, orders about turning in French currency for German notes at outrageous rates, and demanding anyone with information on attacks on Nazi soldiers come forward. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered to Mako. “This is like when the Equalists took over Republic City.”

“Only the Equalists weren’t trying to wipe out benders, just their bending,” Mako said. “Makes you wonder what else they’re doing.”

“Sorry, didn’t think we were here to sightsee,” Sean said, glancing back at the pair. “You’ll want to stay focused, the fella we’re going after needs to pay for what he done.”

“Right,” Falman said, scanning the area. “We’ll take positions up on the rooftops and cover you. Do you need anything after that?”

“Time,” Sean said. “Once I get this bastard alone, I’ll make sure he’s not getting up.”

Falman nodded, leading Mako and Asami away as Sean made his way into a plaza. Looking around, Falman saw stepladder tall enough to put them on the roof of the buildings surrounding the plaza. Clambering up, the three positioned themselves and watched as Sean made his way toward large merry-go-round.

As they waited, Mako scanned the area around the plaza. There were two sets of stairs leading up the hill behind the plaza, tracing to a massive structure in the distance. It was topped with a massive dome, and Mako noticed there was a strange statue atop it, looking like the letter “t” in SG-1’s universe. The building was massive, Mako wondering what kind of wealthy local lived in such a place.

Falman was more concerned watching Sean. The Irishman had found the officer they needed, who seemed to be having a very one-sided argument with a prostitute before telling her off. Sean made himself as casual as possible, leaning up against the merry-go-round and taking out a cigarette. As he smoked away, the Nazi started walking. Glaring at Sean, the leather-coated officer strutted past like he owned the plaza and all in it. It reminded Falman of the attitude of Central’s commanders even before the promised day.

As he watched, the officer made his way from the plaza into the neighborhood, Sean trailing as a respectable distance. Falman had to admit, for an amateur Sean knew what he was doing. He didn’t stare at the general like he would lose sight if he didn’t look at the man for five seconds. He wasn’t stiff or obvious in acting like he wasn’t paying attention. He was loose as he walked, even taking time to stare at the women passing him by. “ _Well, we got lucky in this case. Good thing we met him._ ”

“Uh oh,” Mako said, watching as the pair started to move into the neighborhood. “We’re not gonna be able to cover him if they go into that courtyard with the…is that a statue of an elephant-ox?”

“No, just an elephant,” Falman said, moving for the stepladder. “C’mon, we need to hurry.” Clambering down the stepladder, the trio ran tried to speed for the plaza. The problem was that before they could make it, they heard gunfire. An SMG chattering away, and the screams of civilians in the buildings nearby. Falman gritted his teeth, drawing a pistol from his pocket. “Great, now we’re in trouble.”

Running to the plaza with the elephant, the trio saw Sean standing in an archway staring at two bodies. Turning, he grinned and started jogging away. “Just gave our Judas his reward,” Sean said, throwing the SMG onto a table in the courtyard. “Hope he doesn’t spend it all in one place. C’mon, let’s get back to the Belle.”

It wasn’t a long run back to the Belle, and as they ran through to the backroom Mako leaned against a wall to catch his breath. “This was too easy,” he gasped. “They should’ve caught us.”

“Aye, but they didn’t,” Sean said, grinning. “You know how they say luck’s a lady? Well, she’s a bit of a slut where I’m concerned.” He turned and nodded to Asami. “Hope you don’t mind the language.”

“As long as we’re not getting shot, I’m fine,” Asami said, not sure what a “slut” was. Hopefully it was a good thing in this case.

Following Sean back into the Belle, the four made their way to the second floor to find Vittore nursing a beer. “You’re back,” he said. “Did you have any luck?”

“Aye, we found our informant,” Sean said. “Couldn’t find a rope of straw, but I did give him thirty pieces.”

Vittore smiled, clapping Sean on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re safe Sean. Now, let’s all drink a toast. To the end of another rat in a city full of them.”

Falman nodded, taking a seat with the pair. Mako and Asami were more hesitant, remembering the evil smile on Sean’s face after he shot the informant.

* * *

Santos rose up from his desk at the sight of Havoc. “Ah, you’re back again my friend! I hope you have something new to trade then?”

“Sure, if you’ll take work for goods,” Havoc said, nodding to the arms dealer. “After all, if we do something for you, you’ll take that into account, right?”

“I see,” Santos said, Korra watching the wheels spin in his conniving head. “Yes, I think we can work something out. Tell me, do you know how valuable certain vehicles are in my business?”

“So what, now we’re stealing cars for you?” Korra folded her arms. “This city’s full of them, what do you need us for?”

“Ah, this particular car is a bit of a problem to get to,” Santos said. “My friend, Gen. Lutz, wouldn’t be caught dead driving around Paris in a peasant’s car. Last week I offered to sell him an Italian limousine, and do you know what he said to me?”

“Probably something that wasn’t very polite,” Havoc said. “And that offended you deeply.”

“That’s right,” Santos said, letting out a dark chuckle. “He said he had already bought one from a competitor of mine. Which led me to ask how I can make myself some money _and_ show Gen. Lutz what happens when I am refused. Then I realized the only solution is to steal his limo.”

“Hang on, you want us to steal a general’s limousine?” Fuery shook his head at the thought. “That’s crazy, he’ll be surrounded by sentries and security. We’d have to engineer something to distract them just to get close.”

“Or use the one we already have,” Havoc said, nodding back in the direction of the sirens. “And the general would be delighted that you have an exact model of the car that was stolen. Marked up of course.”

“Now you see the bigger picture,” Santos said. “You are almost as devious as the Irishman, it’s like you’ve done this before.”

“This is still a pretty big risk,” Korra said, glaring at Santos. “What do we get if we do this for you?”

“Everyone likes cars, no?” Santos smiled, letting Korra’s suspicion play off. “You could say I am in the business of used cars. If you do this for me, I can open my stores up to you and the resistance. It will still be a transaction of course, but better than walking everywhere, yes?”

“Especially when we might need to ditch a car in a hurry,” Havoc said, sticking out his hand. “Alright Santos, you’ve got a deal. We’ll steal the limo, you get us access to your cars. Where’s Lutz keeping it?”

“The general has his quarters down this street, he prefers to arrive at the Belle with pomp.” Santos sat back down, picking up a massive cigar. “Bring it back to my man at La Villette, and my people will spirit it out of the city.”

“Deal.” Nodding to Korra and Fuery, Havoc started walking down the street.

“You were pretty quick to agree to that,” Korra said. “He didn’t even tell us the actual building the car’s at.”

“He didn’t need to,” Fuery said, smiling from under his flat cap as they went. “Not all generals are like Gen. Hammond. A lot of them are petty and self-centered. Meaning if this general is anything like that, it’ll be pretty obvious where the car is.”

“Like right there,” Havoc said, nodding ahead. Korra saw it, a pair of beefy Nazi soldiers standing guard in front of a wrought iron gate. “Shame you can’t bend anymore Korra, getting out of that would be a breeze.”

“Doesn’t answer how we get in,” Korra pointed out. “Unless we’re gonna scale another building?”

“Unless you want to walk up to the front door and ask nice,” Havoc said, glancing at the buildings. “Fuery, can you cover us from the street?”

“As long as you don’t forget about me,” Fuery said, smiling.

Grinning, Havoc started clambering up the side of the building. Korra groaned, following the Amestrian with a series of annoyed grunts. “ _Stupid Nazis, stupid universe,_ ” she thought. “ _When I get back, I’m just gonna bend a whole day away. Yeah, that’s it. Just spend a whole day bending._ ”

Reaching the top, Korra saw Havoc peering down on a courtyard between the buildings. “Jeez,” she mumbled. “This entire city is courtyards and breasts.”

“I know, not the worst mission I’ve ever been on,” Havoc said, peering down. “Looks like they’re got a little firing range down there.” Korra saw what he meant, watching as three Nazis lined up in front of three targets. A fourth was coaching them off to the side, and a fifth stood behind the iron gate. Korra noticed that the three Nazis firing at the targets were standing in front of a pair of barrels with red markings. The limo was to the side, a long, elegant mobile with sleek lines and off-white tires. The roof was down, showing the wood-paneled dashboard and steering wheel to the world.

“God, it’s too easy,” Havoc said, half-amused and half-annoyed. “Okay, I’ll blow the barrels and take out any survivors. Here,” Havoc said, handing Korra some dynamite and a box of matches. “I’ll start the car, you plant that behind the gate and light the fuse.”

“Wait, I have to light the fuse?” Korra stared at the dynamite like she was holding a greatest hits album from Selena Gomez. “I can drive, and you’ve got way more experience with this than me!”

“It’s not gonna explode until you light it, dynamite’s more stable than that,” Havoc said, sounding annoyed. “Listen, you’re not the best shot and you’re still not a great driver. Trust me, you can do this.”

Korra groaned, gripping the dynamite. “Fine, but Asami and I get the bed tonight.”

“Deal,” Havoc said. “Alright, let’s get started. Backing away, Havoc repositioned onto a roof lower to the ground. As he did, he noticed there was a sixth Nazi standing behind a stack of crates. “ _Good thing I moved,_ ” he though, drawing his pistol. He took a moment and quieted his mind. The last thing he needed was to throw himself off his game. He waited until the Nazis were just about to fire, that would give him a few seconds of confusion after the tanks exploded to finish off the other two. The Nazis raised their rifles, and Havoc toggled the safety. The Nazis fired…

One, two, three rounds. The first punched through the barrel Havoc was aiming at. The second and third sparked off, and when sparks meet fuel and air, they create a rapid chemical reaction. The blast threw the row of shooting Nazis away, and by that point Havoc was already moving to his next two targets. He dropped the Nazi behind the crates, then the one by the iron gate. The officer supervising the shooters stumbled around, trying to regain his bearings when Havoc ran down and shot him for good measure. “Korra!”

Korra clambered down the side of the courtyard, hearing the sirens wail in the distance. Cringing, she set the dynamite stick down and grabbed the box of matches. She fumbled for a second, wishing on everything in existence she had her firebending, then dragged the head of the match across the strip on the box. Trying to not drop it, she held it against the fuse and yelped when it sparked. Sprinting back, she saw Havoc in the driver’s seat turning the engine over. He grinned, waving at her to jump inside.

“I hate you so much right now,” Korra shouted. “How long until -- ”

The blast threw the iron gate open, Havoc slamming down on the pedal and peeling out of the courtyard. Yanking the steering wheel left, he turned toward Fuery. The master sergeant was already running toward them, a pair of dead German soldiers behind him. Jumping into the back, he nodded as Havoc roared through the streets.

“Heads up,” Fuery shouted. Looking back, Korra saw a Nazi car speeding their way. The thing was small, with sharp angles instead of sleek lines.

“Here,” Havoc said, holding up another stick. “Korra, give him the matches.”

Korra grabbed for the matches, then realized she didn’t have anything in her pockets. “Crap, I don’t have them!”

“You what!?” Havoc paused, cutting hard onto a side street. The tires squealed in protest, the back of the car colliding with the front of a shop.

“It’s okay,” Fuery shouted, swapping a new magazine for his pistol. “I’ll force’em back, try and lose’em!” He popped up over the roof, popping off rounds at the Nazis.

Havoc pressed the limo for all it had, Havoc desperate for a break. The car had a massive engine, but it wasn’t built for cornering or sharp swerves. If Fuery didn’t get the Nazis off their backs, they were done for.

In the back, Fuery popped of shot after shot at the pursuing Nazis. He saw some of the rounds break the glass of their front windshield, but that wasn’t enough to shake the soldiers pursuing them. Running dry, Fuery swapped again. “ _Last magazine,_ ” he thought. “ _C’mon, just need to shake them off!_ ” He was slower with his shots, he only had eight. The first went wild, not even touching the car. The second hit the left headlight. The third and fourth hit the hood.

The fifth was right in the bullseyes.

The car swerved hard, slamming into the front of a store with three red neon Xs in front of it. Grinning, Fuery turned and shouted, “Got’em!”

“Nice job Fuery,” Havoc said, easing off the pedal slightly. “Okay, let’s get this overpriced junkheap to Santos’ man and see how they’re doing with Luc.”

“Yeah, great,” Korra groaned, the avatar slinking lower in her seat.

They were unmolested the rest of the ride, handing the keys over to Santos’ man in front of the slaughterhouse entrance. The smell still lingered in the building, but it was old now. The flesh inside had been charred away by the bombs, then cleared away by the Resistance. Making their way to the basement, Havoc knocked on the door and waited. A slit on the door slid open, and a pair of eyes checked the three. Nodding, the man behind the door shut the slit and opened the door. “Luc is back there with your friends.”

“Thanks,” Havoc said, nodding to the man. The basement had transformed since the bombing the previous night. The rubble inside was being cleared, men moving crates of food and ammunition in. A gramophone spun, a dour trumpet playing over the movement in the basement. The resistance fighters inside were dressed in worn working clothes, carrying old double-barrel shotguns or hunting rifles. One man was tinkering with a radio off to the side, and behind a set of patchwork curtains Luc, Breda, Al, and May stood over a map. Behind them was a red, white, and blue tricolor with a red cross with two bars on it.

“Ah, welcome my friends,” Luc said, waving Havoc over. “I heard you were working with Santos again. This is good, we will need the black marketeers and smugglers in our graces if we are to achieve victory.”

“Can’t argue that,” Havoc said. “Fuery, you want to see about helping them with their radios?” Fuery nodded, going over to help the man fiddling with the set as Havoc and Korra walked to the table. “What’ve we go?”

“Information, and a chance to use it,” Luc said. “Since we all spend so much time at the Belle, I thought we could find some new friends to drink with.”

“Not a bad idea,” Havoc said, staring down at the map. “Who were you think about?”

“The Germans are holding several dozen POWs in the city, veterans of the Foreign Legion,” Luc said, tapping on the map. “The kind of dangerous men we need. Their leader is a man they call _Le Crochet_. If you break him out, he can help guide our fighters against the Nazis.”

“It’s still a POW camp,” Breda said. “It’ll have a decent number of guards around it, fighting positions, and lookouts. We’ll need time to plan this before it happens.”

"Yet it must happen soon,” Luc said. “The Germans plan on moving these men to a series of camps, if we delay it will be too late to help them escape.”

“We’ll need to get our people together,” Havoc said, nodding to Breda. “How’s your wound healing?”

“Very well,” Luc said, smiling. “Veronique was an excellent nurse. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

“Nothing like the care of a good woman,” Havoc said, grinning. He reached for his pocket, and groaned. “Hey, any chance you could spare some cigarettes around here?”

Luc nodded, smiling as he pulled a fresh pack from his coat pocket. “They’re German cigarettes, sadly. Still, they’re better than nothing.”

“I’ll take it,” Havoc said, grabbing at the pack and putting a fresh one between his lips. Giving Korra a look, he asked, “Got a light? I lost mine.”

“Of course, my friend,” Luc said, pulling out a lighter. “Remember, we must free the prisoners soon, otherwise our efforts will only be more difficult.”

“No problem,” Havoc said, grinning as he lit up. He took a deep drag, then his eyes bugged out and he snatched the cigarette from his mouth. “Augh, these are terrible!”

Luc sighed as he looked down at the map again. “Yes, the German cigarettes usually are.”


	6. Chapter 5 - Preparation

**Chapter 5 - Preparation**

* * *

Bolin sat in the crumbling ruins of the buildings to the west of the Belle. He yawned, staring at the MALP and waiting for something to happen. He’d waited there all day, hearing the sirens and gunshots and even explosions in the distance. “ _At least they’re all doing something,_ ” he thought. “ _I mean I know someone has to wait with the MALP, but this is getting old._ ”

He heard more propaganda speakers spouting off in the distance, ignoring whatever lies they were spewing out. Kuvira had done the same, spreading pamphlets and radio broadcasts about all the good she was doing in the provinces. Worse, Bolin had even helped her with some of the broadcasts. He spoke to the people about providing order, security, and a new era for the people of the Earth Kingdom. Exactly like the speakers in the neighborhood called out about.

“ _C’mon, shake it off Bolin,_ ” he thought. “ _Reinhardt’s German, he said his whole country had to deal with this. He said it, you’re not a Nazi._ ” Even saying it to himself, Bolin realized he didn’t quite shake the idea.

A flash. Bolin blinked and stood up. There it was again, a flash a few feet away from the MALP. That was when a portal opened, a second MALP rolling in. “Hey, hey, I’m right here!” He jumped up and down in front of the MALP, the robot stopping as it caught him in the camera. “Hey, Maj. Carter! Can you hear me?” The camera panned up and down. “Oh, good, I mean I was getting bored to tears out here, and it’s so -- ”

The MALP rolled forward. “Right, right, sorry. Look, none of our lacrima work. See, look at this.” Bolin grabbed one of his first aid lacrima and tapped at it. “See? Nothing.” Tossing the lacrima over his shoulder, he pointed to the city. “See, we’re in a city called Paris, and guess what? There _are_ Nazis! They took over the city, and a nation called ‘France’, I think that’s what it’s called. Are you getting all this?” The camera nodded again. “Good, anyway, we’re working with a group of people fighting against the Nazis. We already fought them a few times, but we’ll leave when you get the lacrima working again.”

The camera panned around, and focused on the first MALP. “Right, yeah, if the recalls don’t work that’ll be a problem. Oooh, I know! What if you sent us notes each week? You can use the MALPs here to talk to us, and we can see how you’re doing with getting us out. How’s that?” The camera was motionless, Bolin feeling awkward as he smiled at the machine until there was another nod. “Great! I’ll tell everyone else. This is perfect, thanks Maj. Carter!” The camera nodded one last time, then the portal cut out.

Bolin jumped up, his fists pumping in the air. “Yes, they know we’re alive!” Sprinting back to the Belle he careened into the back room with a smile. He saw Sean laying in the bed, shirtless and asleep next to a nude brunette. Fully mortified, he tiptoed his way past the pair toward the door to the dressing room. Remembering what was on the other side, Bolin took a breath and opened the door.

“Oh, _bonjour_ ,” one of the women said. A statuesque raven-haired beauty with piercing green eyes. “Do you need help?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Bolin said, holding up his hands as his mind brought up Opal’s face. “I’m just looking for my friends is all?”

“Oh, they’re at the table upstairs,” she said, the other women turning and giggling as the brunette sauntered up to Bolin, her hips swaying as she walked. “Of course, if you want to spend some time with us, we won’t mind.”

“No, really, I’m fine, just gotta see my girlfriend _I mean_ friends!” Bolin’s rictus grin was starting to hurt as he edged around the woman.

“You have a girlfriend,” she said, sounding like she was only more enthused. “You’re so lucky. Since the war all my boyfriends are fighting, or in hiding.”

“Boyfriends?!” Bolin didn’t realize there was a chair leg behind him, and he went sprawling back on the floor. Rubbing the back of his head, he sat. Then he stopped himself from colliding with a pair of, well, you can fill in that particular blank yourself. “Sorry!”

The woman in the chair grinned, leaning forward. “Sorry for what, _cherie_?”

Bolin’s teeth were chattering now, and before anything else could happen he was sprinting for the door. The girls all giggled to each other, then went back to preparing for their night.

In the hall out to the main room, Bolin caught his breath. He was doubled over, wheezing as he tried to collect his thoughts. “ _Opal, gotta get back to Opal! Yeah, that’s it, just gotta focus on taking out the Nazis and getting back to Opal!_ ” Straightening himself, Bolin exhaled and walked up the stairs. Despite his efforts, he still couldn’t stop from blushing as he walked through the second floor.

It wasn’t hard to find the others. Asami was staring ahead, unable to escape the sights that surrounded them. Mako was blushing hard, gripping his hands and staring down at the table. Falman was the only one that was acting anywhere close to normal, sipping at a glass of beer and waving Bolin over. “Hey, did they send a second MALP?”

“Huh?” Bolin blinked, before his mind snapped back to where it should be. “Right, the MALP! Yeah, the sent a second one. I spoke with Maj. Carter, I told them everything that’s happened so far. They’ll open the portal in another week, hopefully they’ll have a solution.”

“Hope for the best then,” Falman said. “Is Sean up yet?” Bolin’s blush deepened. Falman sighed, pushing his glass away. “Seriously, are you all that shocked by this place? You’re not about to tell me sex doesn’t exist in your world, are you?”

“Of course it does,” Mako said, not looking up. “It’s just, isn’t this pretty blatant?”

“Actually this is one of the nicer brothels you could find in Amestris,” Falman said, leaning back in his chair. “The women look like they’re treated more like employees than objects, and the owners aren’t beating them if they aren’t bringing in money from what I can see.”

“That’s because my mother used to be one of the girls who worked here.” Everyone looked up to see Veronique walking toward them. “She was fortunate, she remained a singer. My father was the bartender, they met and so goes the story. When the former owners started to fall into financial trouble, my parents bought them out. They’ve owned it ever since, and my mother vowed to not treat the women who worked her like cattle in a field.”

“Reminds me of our boss’ mother,” Falman said. “She runs a place like this, a little smaller though. Not quite as blatant either. Still, she never treats her girls like they’re anything less than people. It’d be nice if it could be that way for every woman in this kind of work, but then the world isn’t perfect.”

“You’re right,” Veronique said, looking away. “If it were, my brother Jules would still be here.”

“I’m sorry,” Falman said, nodding to Veronique. “With any luck, we’ll see better days ahead.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Veronique said. “Luc asked me to bring you all to La Villette. Your leader, Havoc, he’s planning out an escape for a group of prisoners held in _Le_ _Marais_. He said that he’d need your help to plan out the operation.”

“Got it,” Falman said, rising from his seat. “I’ll get Sean, you three wait outside.”

“Yes please,” Asami said, the trio speeding for the front door.

* * *

By the time everyone was gathered together, gray rainclouds threatened to unleash over the city. Securing a sedan from one of Santos’ men, Sean drove Havoc, Korra, and Breda to the plaza.

“Three, four, five,” Breda said. “Plus a sixth watchtower close enough to be a problem on those apartments. Oh great, and there’s two machine gun bunkers at the bridge next to the holding pens.”

“Place is crawling with Nazis too,” Sean said, wheeling the car around the emplacements. “Even one of them gets to the alarms, we’ll have every jackboot in the city stepping on us.”

Havoc nodded. The pens were only barbed wire ringed around four posts to hold the men inside. The problem was the Nazis weren’t being too stupid this time. The position was ringed with tank obstacles, “The Devil’s Jacks” in Amestris. Nazi soldiers paced about the position, and Havoc picked out a pair of men in black trench coats patrolling the position.

“We wouldn’t get in there with…everyone here,” Korra said, nearly slipping. “How many people does Luc have?”

“Not nearly enough to fight our way in,” Sean said. “Looks like we’ll need to go for a stealthier approach.”

“Suppose so,” Havoc said, turning to Breda. “Getting any ideas?”

“A few,” he mumbled. “Let’s get back to the slaughterhouse.”

As Sean drove back, he looked in his rearview at Breda. “So let me ask you something big fella. How’d you all get stuck over here? Last I checked, the Americans were still smarting after the Japanese bombed your little base in Hawaii.”

“We’re still America,” Breda said, looking bored. “Do you have any idea how many resources we have? Waging a war against two threats is nothing for us. It just takes time to get everything where it needs to be.”

“That must explain why you lot waited so long to actually do something,” Sean said. “The rest of the world falls to pieces, and all you people do is send guns and food to the Brits.” Havoc and Breda both noticed that slight twinge of anger at the mention of “Brits”.

“Considering we’re here now, it’s funny that you’re talking to us like this,” Havoc said, wishing he had a better cigarette to smoke than the German ones. “Especially after all the help we’ve given so far.”

“True, suppose I can’t complain,” Sean said. “Maybe I’m bitter that you all waited until after so many people died to before you came to help.”

“That’s why we’re here now,” Breda said. “Soon the entire American army is gonna come marching down the streets of Paris, and the Nazis won’t have a leg to stand on. You think maybe you’re being impatient?”

“Maybe, but every day you bastards take getting ready is another one these Nazis arseholes keep hurting people.” No one said anything else after that, and Sean guided the car back to the slaughterhouse without issue.

Inside the basement again, the teams looked over a rough diagram of the plaza with Luc and Veronique. From where Havoc stood, there was a bridge defended by machine gun bunkers to the left. On the far right, atop a series of apartments, a guard tower. The plaza itself was split in three sections. One in front of what looked like a government building, a small section with a guard tower and speaker tower, and closest to the bridge the holding pens.

“This place is a death trap,” Mako said. “They’ve got positions all over the place, we wouldn’t even unlock one of these before they came down on us.”

“That’s why some of those Nazis are gonna donate their uniforms to us,” Breda said. “All we need is to find seven uniforms, that shouldn’t be too hard with so many of these bastards scattered across the city.”

“I’m sure the ones at the Belle can make a kind donation to the cause,” Sean said, grinning. “We’ll grab a few from the floor with some help from the girls. They’ll be too drunk to notice anything strange about it.”

“Wait, ‘use the girls’?” Al asked, mirroring the nervousness May and Korra’s team had. “You mean, uh…”

“No, I don’t,” Sean said, grinning. “They all hate the Nazis, they’d only sleep with those bastards if they’re paying double. We can use that to sucker them in, and we’ll be waiting for them in their rooms when they come in.”

“The girls will need to know our rough measurements,” Havoc said. “It’ll be me, you, Falman, Breda, Fuery, Bolin, and Al.”

“Wait, what,” Al said, blinking as he heard his name. “You want me to help with this?”

“Well look at ya,” Sean said, rolling his eyes. “The Germans might think you’re one of their general’s bastard children.”

“No, wait, this is a terrible idea,” Al said, backing away from the table. “I’ve never done anything like this before, I’m a, uh, a specialist!”

“Then you’d better learn to specialize in planting a bomb,” Sean said.

“We do need that many in disguise Al,” Havoc said. “Especially for the bunkers. If those aren’t taken out, we’ll be mowed down before we can get anyone out.”

Al groaned, realizing Havoc wasn’t going to give on this one. “Fine, but I’m not the one that should be taking out one of the bunkers.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Havoc said, smiling at Al.

“We’ll need a getaway too,” Breda said. “It won’t take long for the Nazis to converge on the position after the blasts.”

“I’ll handle that,” Asami said, looking at the street map under the diagram. “How long until you can open the cages after the first blast?”

“Give it five minutes,” Sean said, lighting up a fresh cigarette. “We’ll take the bastards out and get the prisoners onto the truck. The rest of us will toss the uniforms and move into the city.”

“This will give us some rapport with the underground in Paris,” Luc said, standing tall over the planning. “Le Crochet acquired a reputation for tenacity against the Nazis in North Africa. With him leading the combat arm of the resistance, we will have the foundation we need to win our freedom.”

“You’d better be right,” Sean said, glaring at Luc. “It’s our necks on the line out there after all.”

“Really Sean,” Veronique said, glaring at him. “If it weren’t for Luc, you’d still be spending your nights drinking at my parent’s expense.”

“Hey can we maybe stay focused here?” Havoc asked, gesturing to the drawing.

“Of course,” Luc said, nodding as he leaned over the map. “I have a group of contacts as well, new allies of the resistance who can assist us. This victory should be what proves to them that we are more than words.”

“Not yet,” Havoc said. “Once we get those men into hiding, then we’ll call this a victory.”

“Amen brother,” Sean said, grinning. “Let’s get to the Belle then. The girls are gonna need to check us over for sizes.” Bolin and Al started blushing at the idea.

* * *

It was near midnight in the Belle, and the party was in full swing. A pair of the Belle’s girls were on stage, dancing about as a third sang on the dais. The Nazis in the center of the room laughed and cheered, unaware they were being watched from the second floor. Havoc scanned from the railing as the girls around the floor picked their marks, ready to start pulling their targets into a specific room on the second floor.

“Shouldn’t you be in your room?” Turning, Havoc said Veronique staring at him. “You can’t afford to miss this chance after all.”

“Wanted to make sure everything was in place,” Havoc said, forcing himself to smoke another terrible cigarette. “What are you doing here?”

“This is still my parent’s home,” Veronique said, smiling as she walked up next to Havoc. “I could say you’re all guests of my pleasure.”

“Sounds more like something you’d say to Sean,” Havoc said. “Seems like you two have a history sometimes.”

“He was my brother’s _bon ami_ ,” Veronique said, though there was pain as she spoke. “When Mssr. Morini made Sean his driver, Jules was his mechanic. They were so excited to race together, but then we went to Saarbrücken…” Veronique trailed off, it sounded like the memory was too painful to want to remember.

Finishing his cigarette, Havoc turned toward the nearest table and crushed it in the ashtray. “So, what did Luc do before the war?”

“He was a novelist,” Veronique said, brightening again. “He’s considered one of the most respected men in France for his works.”

Havoc’s eyebrow went up. “So, he doesn’t have any military experience?”

“Of course he does,” Veronique said. “He was conscripted during the first war. He was one of the men who survived the fighting at Verdun.”

“Then I hope he’s prepared for organizing this,” Havoc said, moving for the bedroom he’d been given. “Fighting like an insurgent is a different game from being on the battlefield.”

They all waited in their rooms in their own ways. Sean and Havoc kept smoking away, waiting for the sound of the doorknob turning. Fuery wiped off his glasses, then set them aside. He didn’t have the best eyes, but he was sure he wouldn’t mistake a brothel girl for a Nazi. Breda finished off a small sandwich, brushing the crumbs off the bed as he did. Falman stood against the wall next to the door, listening for any footsteps.

Bolin was pacing the room, a bitter look on his face. It was one thing to see the Nazis from a distance, to know they were out there following their horrific plans for the world. This was going to be his first time up close and personal with one of them, and all to steal their uniform. Even he was realizing how tense he was at that moment, but he didn’t quite care about it. He remembered the pictures of what the Nazis were capable of, and took a breath.

Al was too busy wringing his hands, realizing what was going to happen. The Nazi was going to be led into his room by a scantily-clad prostitute, in order for him to knock the man unconscious and steal his uniform. All so he could plant a bomb at the base of a guard tower, because he was currently trapped in another dimension. “ _I thought getting my body back was supposed to make things normal._ ”

Down on the floor, the girls were pulling their targets. The drunk Nazis, plied with beer since they came in and lacking proper blood flow to the brain thanks to the employee dress code, grinned like idiots as they were led away. Their cohorts, still watching the show and disgruntled that no one had pulled them away for a “private dance” cheered all the louder as they focused on the women up on stage. The seven targets, stumbling and slurring, shuffled up to the second floor following the intoxicating promise of the beautiful women before their eyes. The girls played to the men’s fantasy, giggling with mock excitement and telling the men that oh, yes, I just can’t wait for you to ravish me.

The doors turned. Seven sets of eyes locked on the door and waited. First the girl came in, giggling and playing at the excitement of what the Nazis thought was to come. The drew the Nazis inside, smiling with hooded eyes and bare chests until they were through the door. The Nazis stumbled in behind them, staring straight ahead with no heed to the fact that as soon as they were in the room, the door shut behind them.

Bolin struck hard, clasping his hands together and slamming them on the back of his Nazi’s neck. The man stumbled, screaming out a half-second before Bolin put the boot to his face. Flipping the man on his back, Bolin pummeled the Nazi’s head until there was blood staining the carpets.

Sean sent a haymaker at the Nazi, catching the jackboot square in the jaw. The fascist dropped, Sean putting the man in a choke until there was no life left.

Havoc kicked out the man’s knees, gripping his target’s chin and back of the head before twisting. There was always resistance, the human mind was designed for self-preservation and the spine designed not to break. Except when a night of alcohol and the promise of easy sex clouded it to the point a man couldn’t fight back. One second there was a wet snap, the next the Nazi fell to the floor.

Breda grabbed his target from the back and shoved him into the bed. As the Nazi flailed, Breda grabbed one of the pillows and forced it over his head. It took longer, but after a few minutes his target stilled. Breda kept the pillow on a few seconds more, pressing down harder with his whole body until he was satisfied the Nazi wasn’t getting up.

Fuery slammed down on his target with the butt of his pistol, hitting the man again and again until he was sure his target wasn’t going to threaten him.

Falman grabbed his target by the hair and slammed him into the bedpost, dazing the man before Falman choked the man out.

Al watched as his target walked into the room, led by the hand by the woman that targeted him. Shutting the door, Al had it all planned in his head: Knock the man down, choke him out, hold him for later. What he didn’t expect was the man to turn at the sound of the door closing. Freezing, Al and the Nazi stared at each other. The soldier couldn’t have been much older than Al was, a youthful face stuffed into a gray uniform with a red armband. They both stared for an eternity, before the Nazi tried to fight back. Al dodged away, the Nazi’s movements were sloppy and scattered. He threw wild punches, roaring out something in German that Al couldn’t understand. Al dodged and weaved, striking the Nazi in the face. The Nazi cried out, clutching as his bleeding nose. Al took the chance, kneeing the boy in the guy. The wind rushed out of the Nazi, the goosestepping fool falling to his knees. Al used the chance to get behind him, wrapping his arm around his target’s neck and squeezing. The Nazi gasped, clawing at Al’s arm as the woman glared. “This is for invading my home,” she hissed, spitting in the Nazi’s face. After a few more seconds of desperate gasping, the Nazi went limp.

Al moved fast. He stripped the Nazi’s uniform clean off, finding his cap in the back pocket of the trousers. He threw his own jacket off and pulled the Nazi’s blouse over his arms. It was a little loose, but it fitted well enough to pass a cursory inspection. He started to undo his belt, then remembered there was someone else in the room. He blushed and said, “Uh, sorry, but can you…”

“If you’re sure,” the woman said, smiling as she went for the door. “I hope you know that I’m more than willing to stay, though.”

“No, I’m good,” Al said, giving an awkward smile back. “I’d appreciate some privacy, that’s all.”

“Suit yourself,” the woman said, sauntering to the door. “I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done.” Al gulped, waiting for the door to shut before he started taking care of the rest of the uniform.

Stepping out five minutes later, Al saw the others all waiting for him. Havoc nodded, turning to the others. “Alright,” he said, flicking his cig into the nearest ashtray. “Backroom, now."


	7. Chapter 6 - Le Marais

**Chapter 6 - Le Marais**

* * *

“Here’s the plan,” Havoc said, adjusting his disguise in the back room of the Belle. “Mako, I want you to blow the tower on these apartments. Light your fuse once you hear the explosions, then come back us up in the plaza. Fuery, Falman, I want you both handling the bunkers on the bridge. Al, Breda, you take the towers closest to the government building. Bolin, you take out the tower at the edge of the plaza. Does everyone have a watch?” Everyone nodded, the Nazis had been helpful enough to give theirs up. “Make sure we’re all on the same time, I’ll tell you what time to light the fuses. Asami, I want the truck at the plaza when we blow the towers. Load up the prisoners, we’ll take them to La Villette. Any questions?”

“I’ll blow up the tower,” May said. “I’m better at climbing the buildings, and you can have Mako on the street once the fighting starts.”

Havoc turned to Mako and asked, “Any problems?” Mako shook his head. “Alright, then you go with May and give her some backup if she needs it. Okay, grab some weapons and let’s get moving.”

The plan was simple, it needed to be. They were working on such a short time frame, they had no way to work around their constraints. Havoc wasn’t complaining though. As he walked out to the truck, in his experience it was better to have a simple plan than a complex one with dozens of moving parts. Everyone knew where they were supposed to be, what they were supposed to do, and when they were supposed to do it. Loading up into the Rousseau family truck, Asami and Sean in the front, rolling through the street.

“Easy with this one,” Sean said. “Mssr. Rousseau doesn’t much like spending money on mechanics. This truck’s as rusty as a nun’s bedroom door.”

“Please,” Asami said, working the gearshift and clutch without issue. “I was working on my own mobiles since I was thirteen. A rusty old girl like this is a beauty.”

“Didn’t take you for a driver,” Sean said, grinning. “What’re you used to driving back home then?”

“Nothing special,” Asami said. “Only a custom number with a six-liter, eight-cylinder engine that can go from zero to seventy in six seconds.”

“Jaysus, and you said custom,” Sean laughed, turning to Asami. “Christ, what’re you doing after this?”

Asami grinned at the Irishman and said, “Nothing involving you.”

Finally doing something she enjoyed, Asami took the time as she drove to start looking at the city. The buildings felt like they were made to give the city a sense of elegance. The cobblestone streets, the faded stone buildings, she realized that since she arrived she hadn’t seen a single skyscraper anywhere. Granted, the streets wound and wove everywhere. A few times she had to cut the wheel hard to keep from running into a shop window, even as slow as she was driving.

The people weren’t too different from Republic City. The Bell had taken some getting used to, but she was thankful the Rousseau family were treating them as guests instead of intruders. Sean didn’t seem so bad either. Sure, he was as reckless as Parker seemed to be, but he hadn’t treated them like they were worthless or given them trouble because Asami and Korra were a couple. At least fighting alongside him gave them all a distraction from being unable to go back.

Asami stopped the truck two blocks away from the plaza, right as the clouds opened up. Havoc grinned, this was even better. The guards would be too annoyed and miserable from the rain to pay much attention to anything around them. He’d used the same play more than once. Handing each of his people some dynamite, he reached into his pocket and grabbed some boxes of matches he’d grabbed from the back of the Belle. “It’s almost one in the morning. Everyone light your fuses at 1:15, got it?” Everyone nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

[The plaza](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0krxo46Ifbo) in the rain was even more miserable, and given it was a makeshift prison camp that was saying something. Everyone kept their heads down, looking like the rest of the Nazis scattered around the cages. They all looked dour, unhappy, ready to call it a night and get back to their beds. The same expressions on the guards around them. Havoc grinned, he and Sean making their way toward the cages. The propaganda speakers kept blaring, telling the people to conserve fuel oil. “A chilly home saves German lives,” it said. Havoc shook his head. “ _Not tonight, it won’t._ ”

Mako walked with May along the streets, scanning the streets to make sure no Nazis were coming up on them. They could see their target, a guard tower looming over the street. There was a Nazi atop it, scowling down at the streets. “Are you sure you can do this?” he asked.

“I can,” May said, glaring up at the tower. “Don’t get caught, alright?” With that, May scaled the side of the building using an old drain pipe. Mako tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, even as a pair of women walking the streets stared up at the girl.

It was easy for everyone to position themselves at their targets, the rain and the general malaise of the duty left the Nazis unfocused, unaware. Havoc checked his watch. 1:12. He nodded to Sean, and the pair made sure no one was watching before they started. Everyone in a disguise was doing the same, pulling out their dynamite and keeping it as dry as possible while they set it under their targets. Seven fuses hissed in the rainy Parisian night, ready to spark new light in the fight against the Nazi occupation.

Bolin was lighting his dynamite when he heard shouting in his direction. Looking up, he saw a Nazi in a black trench coat and fedora storming over, shouting something in German. Bolin gulped, if he was found out then the Nazis would go on alert and ruin the plan. Taking a breath, he started walking over, checking the safety on his SMG was off. The man in the trench coat kept shouting, demanding Bolin probably answer for why he was at a post he wasn’t supposed to be. Bolin kept his expression calm, marching over to the man. He saw out of the corner of his eye that everyone else had set their charges and were away from their bombs. In seconds the trench coated man was in his face, shouting and screaming.

Bolin shoved the SMG into the man’s gut and pulled the trigger.

The bombs tore through the plaza as rounds ripped through the Nazi’s gut, coating the plaza behind the fascist in blood and gore. Bolin spun around and found a new target, a confused Nazi trying to figure out what was going on. Bolin dropped to a knee and fired, rounds climbing up the left side of the Nazi’s chest.

The plaza turned into a free-for-all. The guard towers groaned and collapsed, crushing the enemy under twisted steel and pouring rain. The teams threw off their disguises and started shooting at anyone wearing a swastika. The Nazis were lost and dazed, half-concussed from the explosives. Fuery and Falman riddled the Nazis on the bridge with fire, one of them screaming as he fell into the river below. Breda put one, two, three rounds into the brains of a Nazi that was trying to give orders. His shattered skull dashed against the pavement, staining the rain-slicked stones with bone and brains. Al kept a pair of Nazis pinned behind a doorway in the government offices, the grand palace bearing a few new scars as he forced his foes down.

Sean ran up to the cages, the prisoners inside screaming in French. “Le Crochet? Where’s Le Crochet!”

“Here!” The pair turned, seeing a bald mustachioed man waving a hook where his right hand should’ve been. “Who are you?”

“Your ticket outta here,” Sean said, pulling out a pin and working at the lock. Havoc noticed it took Sean half a minute to break the door open. “C’mon, we’re getting you out.”

“Not without my men,” Le Crochet growled, running to the nearest body and grabbing a pistol. “Free them, I will help you.”

Another explosion in the distance told Havoc May had succeeded. “Fine,” he barked, ducking behind a set of sandbags. “Sean, help him out!” As Sean set to unlocking the cages, Havoc put some lead into a Nazi officer. He watched as the Nazi’s left eye burst, and the back of his head exploded out in a spray.

Bolin was fury in human form, his SMG chattering as it tore up every Nazi he could see. Havoc saw him riddle a pair of Nazis trying to stop him, until his weapon ran dry. A third Nazi tried to run up and take him down with the butt of his rifle. Bolin ducked the attempt, grabbed the rifle with one hand, and decked the Nazi across the face with the other. As the Nazi went down, Bolin grabbed the rifle and swung the butt across the Nazi’s face until he was sure the Nazi wasn’t getting up. Satisfied, he ran for cover as fire raked the stones around him. Ducking behind one of the wrecked towers, he popped up and dropped the Nazi trying to kill him, the soldier falling backward on the wet plaza spread eagled.

The truck careened into the plaza, Asami taking the propaganda speakers out as she rolled in. “There’s your ride boys,” Sean shouted, pointing to the truck. “C’mon, get in there!” The prisoners nodded, sprinting for the truck. Sean turned around and checked there was no one left before nodding to Havoc. “They’re clear, let’s go!”

Havoc bellowed, “Everyone to the truck!” Firing at one more Nazi that thought he would singlehandedly stop them, Havoc sprinted to the truck. He saw Korra firing her SMG out the passenger window, and even if she didn’t hit anyone she was at least keeping the Nazis down. Running around the other side, Havoc saw Mako and May running down the street. “Load’em up!”

The prisoners jumped into the bed of the truck, followed by the teams. That was when Havoc heard the sirens. Judging the direction, he turned and called out, “Breda!” The redheaded officer ran up and saw where Havoc was facing. Both men opened fire the second the Nazi car rolled into view, riddling the men inside as the car spun out in the rain.

“Breda, check that everyone’s loaded up,” Havoc said.

“Almost,” Breda shouted. “Where’s Bolin?”

Havoc scanned the plaza, watching as Bolin fired at one of the few Nazis still alive. “Bolin,” he shouted. “C’mon, we’re leaving!”

Bolin nodded, turning and sprinting as Korra kept him covered. He jumped into the bed of the truck and turned, still firing at any red armband he saw.

“That’s everyone,” Breda said. “C’mon Havoc, or we’re leaving you behind!”

Havoc pulled himself up into the bed, firing another burst at the car before they set off. “Asami, drive!”

The truck lurched forward, everyone in the bed jerking back as they went rolling. Another Nazi car tried to stop them by blocking their way. Asami answered by gunning the engine, speeding ahead. The Nazis behind their car realized what was about to happen and tried to scatter but Korra kept them pinned. “Everyone hold on,” Asami shouted, shifting gears. Everyone braced, ready for the impact.

Asami slammed into the car, the sheer mass of the truck throwing the car (and anyone hiding behind it) aside like toys in a tantrum. Everyone cheered, Sean and Breda firing from the rear of the truck as they sped for La Villette.

* * *

Asami skidded into the courtyard in front of the slaughterhouse, Luc and some of the men positioned behind cover in case the Nazis might attempt an assault. Asami turned the truck around, backing into the front of the slaughterhouse to hide the escapees from any prying eyes. The teams finally got a good look at the prisoners, and didn’t appreciate what they saw. The prisoners were gaunt, bearing bruises and scars that were too recent to be from a distant battlefield. Their clothes were thin, even for the spring nights in the city. Many bore signs of wounded left in poor treatment from the field, of bloodied bandages needing changing and tattered uniforms that couldn’t keep a light breeze from freezing them.

“Get them downstairs,” Luc said, slinging a rifle over his shoulder as he came inside. “We only have a few blankets, but they’re better than nothing for this rain.”

“Thank you,” Le Crochet grumbled, hoisting one of the men onto his shoulders. “I don’t know who you people are, but you have my gratitude. Once we are fed, then we will speak.”

“I’ll see that we have enough for you all,” Luc said, nodding to the legionnaire. As Le Crochet led his men to the basement, Luc turned to Sean and Havoc. “An excellent job, my friends. Your efforts show that there is still hope to the people of Paris.”

“As long as we’re putting more jackboots in the ground as well,” Sean said, smiling as the doors to the slaughterhouse were shut. “Ain’t that right Bolin?”

“Say what now,” Bolin said, not noticing the blood staining his rain-soaked shirt.

“There will be more time for that later,” Luc said. “I must see to getting our guests fed. Once this is finished, we may speak of the future.”

“We’ll be here when that’s done,” Havoc said, nodding to Luc. As the novelist-turned-partisan walked for the side door at the front, Havoc turned to Bolin, an angry look in his eye. “What happened out there Bolin? Why’d you open fire on that guy?”

“He was shouting at me,” Bolin said, looking like he didn’t realize he’d done something wrong. “I know if he came up to the tower, he’d see I’d planted the dynamite. I didn’t know what else to do but try to distract him.”

“Well, you did distract him, I’ll give you that,” Havoc said. “I don’t blame you for thinking you needed to act, you made a judgement call in the moment and that’s what you need to do sometimes. But the next time, don’t wait until he’s right next to you to do it.”

“Right, got it,” Bolin said, bowing his head.

“Anyway, at least everything worked out,” Havoc said, pulling out a pack of the cigarettes that were probably in his disguise. “Even with the short timeframe, we got the prisoners out and didn’t suffer any casualties. Let’s hope Le Crochet’s as good as Luc says he is.”

Making their way to the basement, the group saw the freed prisoners being cared for. Resistance members helped them to even sit down, the soldiers getting canteens of water to help ease dehydrated tongues. Their wounds were examined, at least as best a group of civilians-turned-insurgents could look at an infected cut or unstitched laceration. Some of the soldiers babbled in French, Havoc guessed that they wanted to know what had happened to their home since they were away fighting.

“I don’t understand,” Korra said, staring at the men. “They look like they’ve been treated like animals. Aren’t you supposed to treat prisoners, well, not like that?”

“You’re not,” Bolin said, staring at the floor of the basement. His eyes had turned hard, his expression bitter and forlorn. “You’re supposed to provide them decent shelter and reasonable amounts of food an water. The Nazis treated their defeated enemies however they wanted, especially when they thought no one would find out.”

“These are soldiers,” Breda said, looking like he was hearing a lie straight to his face. “They all have rules they’re supposed to follow, they can’t just disobey and get away with it.”

“Yeah, they can’t,” Bolin said, glancing up at Breda with lifeless eyes. “Unless their leaders allow it.”

The reality slammed into everyone: This was acceptable for the Nazis. They could treat anyone under their control however they wanted, and no one in their command would say word one about it. Havoc took a long drag, feeling the horrible taste of the cigarette sting his tongue. “Bolin,” he said, crushing the cigarette underfoot. “What will happen to the civilians on the street?”

“The Nazis will start rounding them up,” Bolin said, turning to look right into Havoc’s eyes. “If they’re unlucky, the Nazis will line them up in the streets and shoot them.”

“Bollocks,” Sean whispered, standing up a little straighter. “So they’ll just send out the tans on’em?”

“The justification will be that they’re trying to hunt us down,” Bolin said. “They’ll say that they’ll do whatever it takes to bring order to the city.”

“You mean we’re responsible for everyone that dies?” May’s eyes went wide, but her pupils shrank to pinpoints. “Then we should stop, we can’t do this!”

“The Nazis would kill these people anyway,” Bolin said. “Didn’t you hear me before? The Nazis want to do one thing, make the world in their image. They’ll take more than lives, they’ll take everything. It’s like what the…invaders did to my family’s home a hundred years ago.” Bolin shot a quick look at Sean before going on. “It’s about proving they’re superior, no matter who has to die and what has to be destroyed to do it.”

“Wait, you said they’re like the invaders,” Korra said, eyes going wide too. “So right now, they’re…”

“Just like the Western Temple. What happened to Miles' people,” Bolin said, nodding to Havoc. “They’re going to continue until every one of their targets is dead.”

Korra was still for a moment. Then she clenched her fists and bared her teeth. “We need to stop them,” she whispered. “Every last one of them.”

“Keep it together,” Sean said, glaring at Korra. “It won’t do you any good to go out there and get yourself killed trying to strike every one of the bastards down.”

“He’s right,” Havoc said, though he was more than willing to go along with Korra judging by the look on his face. “There’s still too few of us, we don’t have an army. We need to strike from the shadows and not give them any way to find us. One wrong move, and we aren’t going home.”

“We still have five days before we can do anything involving that,” Falman said, sliding down against the nearest wall. “Plus we’re all cold, wet, and tired.”

“Yeah, sleep sounds like a good idea right now,” Havoc said, fighting back the realization that his body was screaming at him to sleep, for the love of God, _before I fall out from under you!_ “Everyone find a corner and rest up, we’ll talk with Le Crochet whenever we wake up.” Everyone found a space in the basement, Havoc waiting until everyone else was at least up against a piece of wall before they dropped off the face of the earth. Seeing them all pass out, Havoc gave up fighting and let his body do the same.

Sean didn’t pass out, he was too busy staring at the teams. “ _Bloody strange,_ ” he thought to himself. “ _Don’t know what I expected Americans to be like, but it wasn’t like this for sure. Wonder who had the brilliant idea to send them over. Two of’em are almost bloody children for God’s sake._ ” Pondering at how strange Americans could be, Sean shook his head and went for the Belle. His guess was it would be a good twelve hours before any of them woke up. Plenty of time for a nightcap and a fresh pack of smokes.

* * *

Al realized he was awake when the smell of food filled his nose. Shaking the sleep away, he looked around to see the basement was filled with people. More candles and lights had been brought in, and a small generator had been set up. The exhaust was being joined to the chimney of a stove in the basement, a pair of men arguing over how to do it.

“Morning,” Mako said, walking over with a plate and tin cup. “They’ve got terrible coffee and a half-decent dinner if you want any.”

“Thanks,” Al said, taking a few minutes to situate himself. “What time is it?”

“A little past nine,” Mako said, taking a space against the same wall as Al. “Luc’s getting some sleep, once he’s awake he plans to talk with Le Crochet about what will happen next.”

Al yawned, stretching his arms out and standing up to move his legs. “No one’s come looking for them?”

“They’re probably still in shock,” Mako said, sipping the coffee. “We showed up, blew up their little prison and broke everyone out. With how fast it happened I don’t think they even know where to start.”

“So, our refuge is being so ridiculous no one knows what to make of us.” Al thought for a second and nodded. “It won’t work forever, but it can work long enough to give us an edge, can’t it?”

“Maybe,” Mako said, shaking his head. “What we need is more people. If the Resistance is spread out, they can worry about protecting themselves from the Nazis while we carry out anything major. Plus, that way we’re not risking a miss the next time the SGC calls and tries to get us out.”

“Right, I know,” Al said looking toward the stove. “I’m gonna get some dinner, alright? Mako nodded, staring down at his plate as Al walked away for some breakfast.

As Al went, he saw Luc and Le Crochet talking in front of the red, white, and blue flag with the symbol on it. Luc spoke with a fiery passion, slamming his fist into his palm and mentioning something about a “bosh”. Le Crochet sounded subdued, shaking his head and motioning to his hook. Al didn’t need to know French, but he could tell when a man had taken heavy blows that weren’t just physical.

Making his way to the oven, the man cooking the food smiled at Al and grabbed a plate from a shelf just above the range. Nodding to Al, he served up some small cuts of pork, some mashed potatoes, and a piece of bread. Nodding back, Al made his way to his space against the wall. Until Luc stepped in front of him.

“Your name is Al, right?” He asked with a smile on his face, no sign that he’d been arguing with Le Crochet. “Can I speak with you a moment? I think I may need some assistance in dealing with my countryman.”

“Uh, sure,” Al said, trying to act like he knew what he was doing. “I’m not sure I’m the best choice though.”

“You helped free him and his men,” Luc said, guiding Al into the “room”. “That’s enough to start.”

Le Crochet sat on a worn, chipped wooden chair in front of the flag. He was rubbing as the wrist under his hook, glancing up at Al as Luc led him in. “Now what, you’re going to tell me this boy is why I should keep fighting?”

“Somewhat,” Luc said, patting Al on the back. “This is Al, he is one of the Americans who have come to help us.”

Al forced a smile, desperate to sit down and have some food. “Hi.”

“Americans,” Le Crochet said, sounding more dismissive than thankful. It was a surprise after how everyone else seemed to react. “I do thank you. You saved my men and I from the Nazi prison camps. I’ve met with refugees in North Africa. They say it is no place to meet God.”

“We’re glad we could help,” Al said, nodding to Le Crochet. Even though his stomach tried to tell him to stop, Al handed his plate over. “Here, I’m sure you could use some more food.”

“I’ll give it to one of my men,” Le Crochet said, taking the plate. “I am grateful for your aid, but I admit I don’t have much faith in Americans. I saw how your armies conducted themselves in battle in North Africa. The impression was less than stellar, my friend.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Al said. “I can understand why you might not want to join this fight.”

“ _Tase-_ _toi,_ ” Le Crochet spat. Al didn’t need a translation for that one. “As long as my country is under a Nazi flag, I will fight. What I don’t want is to die when I do it. The Nazis have taken enough from me already,” he said, holding up his hook.

“Then we will need the help of these Americans,” Luc said, stepping forward. “The Nazis control France, for now. There are still soldiers like you out there, fighting on for our nation. One day they will return, and we must lay the groundwork for that day. The Americans have numbers, and the British will ensure a steady flow of supplies to our cause.”

“What supplies,” Le Crochet said, gesturing around the basement with his hook. “Your weapons are from the farms or stolen from dead Nazis. I’ve heard that your only reliable weapons supply comes from a Spaniard with more gold than blood in his heart.”

“It is still a supply of weapons,” Luc said. “It is better than fighting in the streets with our bare hands and rocks. With your help, we could turn this resistance into a force every _bosche_ will flee in terror from.”

“Gaudin, I don’t fault what you want,” Le Crochet said. “We still have to figure out where and when we will strike. Our people are still living with three years of Nazi rule. A few dead soldiers won’t be enough to unite them. The Nazis and their fuhrer will do all it takes to maintain control.”

Al’s brain hitched at the mention of “fuhrer”, but Luc pressed. “That is why we must fight even harder. You remember the trenches, the hell that we fought through in the first war. This is more than protecting our borders, the Nazis are worse than that. They would sack our history, our culture, and leave our people with nothing.”

“Then what is your plan,” Le Crochet said, glaring at Luc. “You cannot fight such a campaign with farmer’s shotguns and veterans of the last war.”

“It sounds like the fight has already left you,” Luc said. “The bastard that took your hand must be enraptured with himself.”

Le Crochet set the plate aside and rose from the chair. “You dare call me a coward? I had the balls to fight again, you were too busy writing little books when the panzers swept through the Ardennes!”

“Please, stop!” Al said, stepping between the two. “There has to be another way to handle this, right? Sir, there has to be something we can do to convince you to join with us.”

Le Crochet sighed, thinking for a minute and rubbing his wrist. “Perhaps,” he said, sitting in the chair again. “One of the jailers took my hand from me, then made me watch as he fed it to his favorite dog.” Al winced as Le Crochet looked to the pair. “Many of my men were not as fortunate. This bastard has much to answer for.”

Al tried to argue, but Luc was already shaking Le Crochet’s hand. “Very well. I will personally see that he pays for what he’s done.”

“Then you should know how to find him,” Le Crochet said, stroking his mustache. “I heard his soldiers talking, saying he prefers the type of flesh one finds in the red light district. He tours the alleyways at night, feeding his deviant appetites. The women that ply this trade are terrified of him.”

“Then for the good of all Paris, he must be stopped,” Luc said. “Al, you will come with me for this mission.” Al’s brain misfired, not registering that Luc had, indeed, meant him.

“I want him to know who is responsible for his death,” Le Crochet said, balling a fist. “Make sure you tell him who is responsible before he dies.”

“You have my word,” Luc said, nodding. “Come Al, we must ready ourselves for this hunt.” Al was left still spinning as he realized Luc was already leading him away.

“Hey.” Al and Luc turned to see Havoc lighting a fresh cigarette. “You two going somewhere?”

“There’s business we must take care of for Le Crochet,” Luc said. “I’ll bring him back once we finish.”

“You’d better,” Havoc said. “I don’t bring everyone back, I have to answer for it.”

“Then I shouldn’t let you down,” Luc said, smiling. That was the worst part, seeing that smile that made anything seem effortless. Even an assassination. “You all continue to rest, I’ll return once we’re finished.

Havoc nodded, waving to Al as Luc led him to the door. “Have fun kiddo.”


	8. Chapter 7 - Red Lights and White Collars

**Chapter 7 - Red Lights and White Collars**

* * *

Al followed Luc into the red light district, looking everything like he imagined. The windows were all bathed in a dark red hue, advertising all pleasures of the flesh. Dancing, “performing”, “accessories”. Al watched as women dressed with only a few more pieces of cloth than at the Belle prowled the neighborhood. Some walked arm in arm with their man of the night, laughing and playing before they did the deed. Others congregated with each other on corners and in front of the neon lights, waiting for their next chance at pay.

“You’re too nervous,” Luc said as they walked. “We will be spotted by the Nazis if you cannot keep composed.”

“Sorry,” Al replied. Turning his eyes down. “I thought I was used to life in the city, but this is something totally different from what I know.”

“ _Oui_ , I can’t imagine that this is the kind of French culture my government would want to promote to the world,” Luc said, watching as a pair of women convinced some of the Nazis to join them inside what Al thought was a movie theater. “They are still my people, you understand. I would do anything to free them.”

“Of course,” Al said, smiling up at Luc. “Still, I wish I could understand what Le Crochet thinks killing this one Nazi will do.”

Luc looked down at Al “You don’t believe that revenge is worth it?”

“No, never,” Al said. “Revenge only causes more hate, more pain.”

“Then what do you think of vengeance,” Luc said, gesturing ahead. Al looked up the street to see a pair of Nazi soldiers surrounding one of the prostitutes. Al noticed her smile was smaller, her elbows up as the pair moved closer to her sides. As one of them talked, the other grabbed her arm. She winced, but did nothing as she was led away.

Al winced, trying to remember what he’d learned. “You know that people can’t right every wrong they see.”

“No, but they can do something together,” Luc said. “Revenge may be what some of our number seek, but that need not be opposite our fight for liberation. We are not angels, my friend. We must do what is necessary to free our country.”

“Aren’t you worried about what happens after it’s free,” Al asked, trying to ignore the topless woman gyrating in one of the windows. “After the war, what happens to the people who lost their fathers and brothers to revenge?”

“War is murder,” Luc said, brow furrowing. “I learned that in the trenches. The soldier on the other side of your rifle may be a boy of eighteen, or a father of four, or a new husband. That must make you the more determined to carry out what must be done.”

“But revenge and war aren’t the same thing,” Al said.

Luc laughed. “They aren’t? What do you think led to the invasion in the first place? The Nazis wanted to make the nations the defeated Germany in the first war pay for their victory.”

Al turned away, gazing at the ground and trying to find a way to help Luc hear what he was saying. “Then revenge for revenge is justified?”

“Perhaps you must understand that there is no time for philosophy in war,” Luc said, Al noticing the Frenchman tense up. “We need Le Crochet’s help, and to get it we must kill this pig. Do you think that someone who cuts off a man’s hand, that feeds it to a dog, is someone that should be left to roam?” Al couldn’t answer, until he noticed Luc was staring at someone moving.

Looking through the tangle of shops he saw the target, a Nazi officer with three men around him. At the moment, the officer was looking over a prostitute. Only he did it like he was inspecting a horse to buy. He opened her mouth and looked over her teeth. He squeezed and prodded her, gripping her face with his hand and smiling as she tried to keep calm. He said something in German, then started hauling her into one of the side alleys.

“We wait,” Luc said, turning away and leaning against the side of a building.

“Wait, what?” Al turned from the scene to Luc. “He’s about to hurt her, we should help!”

“The bodyguards will shoot us dead before we get close,” Luc said, though his scowl made it clear he didn’t like the fact. “We wait.”

Al was about to argue again when he heard a woman scream. A chill ran through his spine to his soul, made worse by the distant mocking laughter he could hear. There were two smaller screams after that, but the rest of the time there was silence. Al’s mind cycled through all the terrible, inhuman things that could be happening, and wanted them all to stop. He was an alchemist, a member of the MVTF, he’d returned from the Gate twice! Now here he was, in a red light district, forced to listen as a monster had his way with an innocent woman. He couldn’t hide the pain he felt, his eyes were wide as he heard the odd yelp or cry in the distance. Part of him recognized the people around him paying no mind to the terror. Either they were too afraid to speak out, or had been conditioned to accept this. “ _Oh God,_ ” Al thought, in a voice almost like a whisper in his mind. “ _What if it’s both?_ ”

Luc wasn’t as cowed. He waited patiently, leaning up against the nearest shop. He put out an air of calm in the alleys, but his eyes, they were enraged. Al wondered how the man was keeping it all together so well. Was it his training in the previous war? No, that couldn’t explain this kind of calm.

After five minutes that stretched like an eternity, it was over. Instead of cries, Al heard a woman’s sobs. He saw the officer smiling as he stepped back into public view, his bodyguards cold as they stood by and let him get inside their protection before they set off again.

Toward Al and Luc.”

“Here they come,” Luc said. “I’ll distract them, you shoot the other two.”

Al had only registered that the general was moving when he realized what Luc was asking. “Are…Are you sure?”

“Be ready,” Luc said, putting his fist into his pockets. “Here they come.”

Al’s mind was split between the Nazi and Luc. He saw the black-uniformed man walk toward them, a self-satisfied smile plastered over his face. Al’s mind shot back to Envy, seeing the wide grin on the face of a being who knew what they’d done was against all morality.

“What are you waiting for,” Luc whispered, drawing his hand out of his pocket with brass knuckles in place. “Get your pistol, now!”

Al’s hand moved on its own, but his mind and heart still raced. This wasn’t a fight, this wasn’t him defending himself. The officer coming his way was only a target to them because Le Crochet wanted revenge. Revenge for having his hand cut off, then watching it get fed to a dog. Al’s hand tightened on the pistol without him realizing it.

Luc waited until the men were starting to pass him by before he made his move. He slammed the closest of the three guards across the cheek, the man crying out as Luc jumped on him. Al saw the two bodyguards unslinging their rifles from their shoulder. He didn’t watch from outside his body, or get to imagine this was someone else doing what was being done. He saw his hand raise a pistol at the two men, point-blank, and fire. The both dropped, their rifles clattering to the ground. The officer was cursing in German, Al keeping the pistol on him.

Luc finished with the Nazi, wiping some errant blood from his face and glaring at the general. “So, you are the jailer who held our Legionnaires,” Luc growled, drawing his own pistol from his coat. “Know that this is for Le Crochet!” The Nazi cried out for a half-second before Luc put a bullet in the man’s head.

Al stared ahead, his arm still up with his pistol still out. “ _I just killed two men,_ ” he thought. “ _I just killed two people._ ”

“What are you waiting for,” Luc shouted, grabbing Al and dragging him deeper into the alleyways. “We just killed a colonel, we must hide!”

“What, wait, where?” Al snapped back as Luc kept dragging him into the district. “Aren’t we going back to the slaughterhouse?”

“There will be too many Nazis between here and there,” Luc said, pushing the door open to a cabaret. “We’ll hide in here until they leave.”

Al stumbled inside, turning his head to see the woman from before. She stumbled from the alley, clothes torn and face bruised. As she tried to collect herself, her eyes crossed the dead body. She gasped, then collapsed and wept. Al tried to reach out for her, in time for Luc to slam the door shut.

* * *

Havoc nodded to the coat girl in the Belle as he walked in, seeing the crowd in full swing. Ignoring the Nazis that had decided the Belle was still safe to attend, despite seven of their own going missing, he made his way to the bar. “Evening sir.”

“ _Bonsoir_ ,” Mssr. Rousseau said, grabbing a fresh mug for Havoc. “You’re looking well. I take it the Nazis you were against aren’t in such good spirits?”

“Oh, they’re with some fine spirits now,” Havoc said, grinning as he took out another terrible cigarette. “Most cemeteries are full of those.”

  
Mssr. Rousseau chuckled, filling up the mug. “By the way, I think there’s someone here you’ll want to speak with. Do you remember when you freed Vittore from La Villette?” Havoc nodded. “One of the other prisoners is here, in the first booth past the door. He wanted to speak with one of you.”

Havoc glanced over. He saw a fat, gray-haired man in a black shirt with a white collar around his neck. A gold chain with a cross hung at his chest, overall a man that you could probably pass and not notice. His face was covered in wrinkles, with noticeable jowls and a large nose. “A priest?”

“He drew many eyes when he came in,” Mssr. Rousseau said, sliding Havoc his beer. “Now, I don’t think the Pope himself could draw anyone’s eyes away from the stage.”

“Yeah, I had a hard time looking away from her myself,” Havoc said, sipping at the terrible beer. “Where’s Sean?”

“In the back still,” Mssr. Rousseau said.

“Get him, I don’t want to talk to anyone unless another member of the Resistance is present.” Mssr. Rousseau nodded, Havoc taking another sip before walking over to the booth.

“Ah, good evening my son,” the man said, his voice genial and weathered. “I wanted to thank you, without your help I would be with my Father instead of here.”

“It wasn’t a problem sir,” Havoc said, sliding into the booth opposite the priest. “The view's probably better here anyway. Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Father Denis,” the man said, bowing his head. “Well, I suppose I am simply Mssr. Denis now.”

“Evenin’ padre,” Sean said. Havoc turned to see him walking up with two more mugs of beer. “Wouldn’t expect to find a man of the cloth in a place like this.”

“Former,” Fr. Denis said, sighing. “When the Nazis invaded, I used my pulpit to speak out against their actions in France. For that, they pressured my bishop to have me defrocked.”

“Bastards,” Sean grumbled. “It’s bad enough their treating civilians like they do, now they want to target priests? Your reward waits in Heaven, whether you’re wearing that collar or not.”

“Yes, but I cannot expect God to care for all my needs,” Fr. Denis said, eyes turning dark. “Though I am no longer a priest, many still come to me for their confessions. I consider this a service, God will judge whether this is right or not in the end. Except one man, he is an informant for the Gestapo. He has condemned hundreds of innocent people to death and torture already.”

Sean’s fist tightened. “And this miserable bastard has the nerve to seek confession?”

“Every week, he asks forgiveness for his sins,” Fr. Denis said, looking between Sean and Havoc. “In my heart, I can offer him no more.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not really a priest anymore,” Sean said. “This could’ve gotten you in trouble.”

“Quite, but as I am no longer a true priest, then I do not violate the seal of confession.” Fr. Denis took one of the mugs. “Now that I am free, I will not remain silent. I will hold a sermon in two days, outside my former church. The informant will be there, he feels he must attend for the sake of his soul. There is a strong ledge across from it, with an excellent view of the congregation. When this man approaches me to receive my blessing, I will give you a signal.”

“Well,” Sean said, taking a swig of his own beer. “What would you like me to do then, father?”

Fr. Denis scoffed, the trace of a smile edging onto his face. “Isn’t it obvious, my son? In the name of all that’s holy, blow his fucking head off.”

“Amen padre,” Sean said, downing his drink so fast Havoc had to make sure he was seeing things right.

“God go with you my sons,” Fr. Denis said, nodding to the pair as he rose and blessing them by moving his hands from his head to his chest, then side to side. Havoc noticed Sean rise too out of respect.

As the priest walked out, Havoc sipped at his beer. “Think Santos can get us a rifle?”

“I’m sure he can arrange it,” Sean said, sitting back down as Havoc made some space in the booth. “Where’s the rest of yours? Still sleeping it off in La Villette?”

“They earned a rest after last night,” Havoc said, seeing Luc and Al walk in the front door. “Speak of the devil.”

“Gentlemen,” Luc said, nodding to the pair as he slid into the booth. “Le Crochet and his men will aid our efforts, now that we’ve helped him take vengeance against the cur who took his hand. I daresay we made the streets safer as well, correct Al?”

Havoc was smiling as he looked to Al, until he realized Al looked like he’d not only seen a ghost, but a ghost that told him where, when, and how he was going to die. “Uh, Al? You okay there?” Al nodded, staring down at the table.

“Well, we got ourselves a job of our own,” Sean said. “One of our local priests has decided to ask for our aid. Seems God can’t do all the work around here.”

“This would be important for our work as well,” Luc said, smiling as he swiped Fr. Denis’ mug. “Tell me what you know.”

* * *

[The next day](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMKzx62wZXk) was quiet, the teams split between the Belle and La Villette. Havoc had them take stock of their weapons and equipment, looking over a map of the city with Luc and Le Crochet in the slaughterhouse basement. “They have positions across the city,” Le Crochet said, pointing to several marks on the map. “Petrol stations, ammunition dumps, watchtowers. The Nazis have all of Paris under watch.”

“Their propaganda is constant as well,” Luc said. “Their speakers are lain across the city, the people cannot rise if they are constantly bombarded by the Nazis and their speeches.”

“Problem is we’re only a few dozen people,” Havoc said, looking over the map. “We barely have two hideouts and a connection to the black market. We need better weapons, more fighters, hell we need more of everything.”

“What about the priest,” Le Crochet said. “I understand you and he have a plan, an assassination?”

“He’s got an informant problem,” Havoc said, crushing another terrible Nazi cigarette out in the ashtray on the table. “We need to face the fact that informants are going to be a constant problem while we’re fighting this war.”

“Never any simple answers then,” Luc said, smiling a little as he tapped his finger on the map. He looked up at Le Crochet and asked, “Can your men train our forces?”

“They can,” Le Crochet said. “It must be done in the countryside, away from potential Nazi eyes. It will take time as well, you will not have soldiers that come from the ground as flowers in spring.”

“We will make do until then,” Luc said. “Havoc, can your team handle any threats as we build our forces?”

“As long as you don’t ask us to walk up to every Nazi we see and shoot them in the head,” Havoc said. Then he thought, “ _Bolin might take you up on that though._ ”

“Then it is done,” Le Crochet said, rising from the map. “I will leave a squad here to aid with whatever you need. I still thank you for your aid in freeing me, Gaudin. Perhaps soon, we shall see our nation’s flag atop our city once more.” Nodding to both men, Le Crochet walked out from their sight.

“Well, one issue down,” Havoc said. “We still need a better source of weapons than Santos. I don’t suppose Fr. Denis can help us there?”

“No, but he can do much more,” Luc said. “The Church may be weak in America, but many Catholics will gladly join our cause knowing that a priest is willing to fight against the Nazis.”

“ _Religion working for us? Nice chance of pace,_ ” Havoc thought. Better to keep that one to himself though.

“For now, we must secure our hold where the people know there is hope,” Luc said, drawing a circle with his finger around the Belle and La Villette. “If we show them they are not alone, more will flock to our cause.”

“And it’ll give us some breathing room,” Havoc said. “The more the Nazis are running around trying to pick up the pieces, the less they’ll have to solidify their control. And I’m sure whatever forces are fighting them internationally will appreciate a few more Nazis dying far from their soldiers.”

“There are rumors the British have a special intelligence unit on the coast to the north,” Luc said, stroking his chin. “Any efforts we make against the Nazis will draw their attention. I’m certain we already have their interests after our efforts these past few nights.”

“Speaking of,” Havoc said, eyes narrowing at Luc. “I don’t mind you having my people help with your operations. Saying that, next time give me a little more warning when you do. I’ll play nice in front of your people, but don’t expect me to be so kind the next time you try.”

“That’s fair,” Luc said, looking down at the table. “At times my wish to drive out the _bosche_ overwhelms my good sense.”

“Well, if you’re gonna lead a resistance,” Havoc said, sitting down in one of the chairs. “You’d better learn that you can’t do whatever you want in it. These people need a commander, not a corpse.”

“Yes, perhaps I am being too direct in my efforts,” Luc said, pacing a bit. “Still, I cannot help but see a way to a future where the Nazis flee before us.”

“We’ve already started the bleeding,” Havoc said, paying attention to Luc’s actions. “Once we secure the rest of the neighborhoods in question, I think these British agents are going to have a lot of interest in contacting us.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Luc said. “The British still need space for their own efforts to secure their island. The Nazis use the countryside to launch rockets at the island. In exchange for support, we can destroy them once we hold the neighborhoods of Paris.”

“I’ll tell my teams.” Grabbing a new cigarette, Havoc sighed. “Hey, can we ask Santos to start getting us some decent smokes? I can’t take this Nazi crap.”

“Few can,” Luc said, looking equally frustrated. “I will ask Santos about trying to acquire some American brands. What do you prefer, Lucky Strikes or Marlboro?”

“Marlboro,” Havoc said, recalling the red and white boxes he’d seen in the SGC’s smoke pit. “And see if he can’t secure some more explosives too. We want to make an impact when we take back the north of the city.” Leaving Luc to smile at the thought, Havoc went into the basement to see the place started to become a true command center for the Resistance. Men were finishing with the radios, antenna masts positions in the ruined clocktower in the courtyard before the building. A section of wall next to the radios was covered in maps of the city and surrounding countryside, marking potential targets and areas they needed to stay away from. A makeshift armory was set in the back of the basement, rifles and boxes of stolen ammunition laid out on the tables.

The most important part to Havoc was the chart showing the Nazi command structure in the city. It was a tree, labelled top to bottom with names, ranks, and functions in command. They’d already crossed off two of the names from the list, but it was the two at the top Havoc was most curious about. He noticed they were marked with two different designations. One was a general, but one had an “SS” in front of his name. He’d have to ask Bolin if there was some kind of significance to it.

“Excuse me, Capt. Havoc?” Havoc turned to see May coming up to him, a nervous expression on her face. “I’m sorry, but can I speak with you?”

“Sure May,” Havoc said, turning to the girl with a smile. “What’s up?”

“It’s Alphonse,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “He’s been so quiet since last night, I don’t know if he’s well.”

Havoc looked over to see Al sitting alone in a chair close to the door, staring down at the floor in apparent fascination over a small crack in the tile. “I’ll talk to him, give me a few minutes.” Patting the girl on the head, Havoc walked over thinking about what Al had been through. The kid had never taken a life before, well if you didn’t count what happened on his first mission to the MVTF. Still, that had been more of a mercy to the soul of the child named Zafiah. This was killing two living human beings with his own hand. Knowing how the Elrics worked, Havoc imagined this wasn’t the best time for Al. They considered all life a precious thing, and last night he’d ended two of them. Whatever had happened, that Nazi must’ve done something heinous to make Al pull a trigger.

“Hey,” Havoc said, leaning on the wall next to Al. “Rough night, huh?”

Al blinked before he realized Havoc was talking to him. “Oh, uh, yes. We were up all night.”

“Yeah, but that’s not why it was rough, was it?”

Al shut his eyes, resting his head against his hands before he said, “I don’t understand what happened last night, Havoc. No matter what brother and I went through, we never…We never killed anyone! Not once, not even when we knew it could be excused!” Al was shaking, squeezing his eyes shut like not seeing the world would somehow help him process what he’d done. “Then I heard what that man did last night, and I…” Al finally looked up, but he wasn’t looking at anything. He stared ahead, almost miming what happened with his hand. “I put the gun out and fired, not even at him. I fired at his bodyguards, they weren’t even the ones we were there to…To…”

“To kill?” Havoc shook his head as he lit up the terrible cigarette. “No, but if you hadn’t killed them first they would’ve killed you. You know that, right?” Al nodded, but his face told Havoc he was still distant. Sighing, Havoc dug into his own memories. It wasn’t fun, but this was a time it needed to happen. “You know, I had a mission in the East once. My unit had orders to kill the leader of a group of separatists that were causing trouble for the factories in the region.”

Al started to drag himself back to reality as Havoc went on. “We couldn’t get him where he lived, his group was always around ready to fight. The local factory workers didn’t want to give him up either, since he was one of them. It was weeks before we realized there was one weakness: He was having an affair with a married woman. When we followed her, we found out they both liked to meet at a little hotel in the slums.”

“So, we set up a stakeout on the hotel,” Havoc continued, Al slowly turning to look at him as he spoke. “They came in every week, we found that was when she had a chance to leave her house for a while. We figured if we were gonna kill him, it was there. That’s why one day I was told to kill him when he was in the room with her. No insurgents, no witnesses. Only that was the thing, right there. No witnesses meant the wife as well.”

Havoc took a long drag, ignoring the disgusting taste of the tobacco as he spoke. “She wasn’t part of the insurgents, she didn’t even care about politics. She was someone that could identify us, someone that could turn the entire operation upside down. If we let her live, that would’ve given the insurgents a chance to build up using him as a martyr. If she dies with him, that makes him a pariah who couldn’t even stay loyal to his own wife.”

“You…You mean you…” Al stared up at Havoc, trying to wrangle with what he was feeling.

“They told me to use a cheap pistol anyone could get,” Havoc said. “They stood by in case something went wrong, but I was the one who kicked the door in and shot them both. Shooting him was easy, he was our target.” Havoc took another long drag, thinking about that night. He could remember it all: The stains on the rug that he could only guess about. The torn, peeling wallpaper faded from the years. The stale cigarette stink that had embedded into the carpets and sheets. The shocked and enraged face of the target, the man already half-jumping from the bed when Havoc pulled the trigger one, two, three, four times. The blood staining the headboard, the man’s body falling to the floor.

The look of terror on the woman’s face as she realized what had happened. Havoc could remember putting the barrel on her, remembering the sight of her eyes as she realized what was about to happen. How she started to shake her head, mouth trying to remember what words were as Havoc froze. It wasn’t long, maybe five seconds, but Havoc remembered how it feelt. The awful, loathing ball he felt when he pulled the trigger twice and added her blood to the headboard too.

“They found his body the next day,” Havoc said, his own eyes shut now. “They called it right, his death in that situation fractured the insurgents. The factory workers ‘realized’ he wasn’t worth supporting, and his followers gave up their cause. We stopped a second Ishval, and it only took one innocent life to do it.”

Al was still staring at Havoc, eyes wide as the captain dropped another cig to the ground and crushed it underfoot. “You know, you’re pretty lucky Al,” he said, taking a breath as he started walking back into the basement. “The way Bolin’s acting? I’d say these Nazis deserve what we’re giving them. It means you won’t have to kill any civilians to get the job done.”

Havoc didn’t look back as he walked away, he already knew what Al was doing. He was staring at Havoc with conflicting feelings barraging against his heart and in his head. Some were reminding Al this was one of Mustang’s men, a fighter who was willing to stare down literal monsters to do the right thing for his friends and comrades. The other was wrangling with the fact that Havoc had been a killer for the government, willing to take what should’ve been an innocent life to follow orders.

Havoc didn’t have the time or capability to handle that fallout right now, but he did notice May look over, confused. Wasn’t Havoc supposed to help Al feel better? Why was he staring at Havoc like he was deciding if there was a man or monster in front of him? She hurried past Havoc to Al, Havoc hearing her ask Al questions trying to figure out what was wrong.

Walking up to the chart of the Nazi command structure, Havoc lit up a fresh cigarette and lit up. He stared at the two top spots, occupied by Gen. Karl Eckhardt and Maj. Kurt Dierker. Blowing out the smoke on the pair, he turned his eyes to the bottom of the chart. “ _No going for the head this time,_ ” he thought. “ _Time to break the legs._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Well, looks like posting a story about fascists being fascists wound up being rather timely, didn't it? Like I said in the tags, fuck'em.
> 
> Anyway, as always, feel free to comment on what you like, what you think needs work, or just to mention anything you notice! Also remember there's a TV Tropes page for the series, that you too can edit!
> 
> Stay tuned, more on the way!


	9. Chapter 8 - St. Eustache's and History Lessons

**Chapter 8 - St. Eustache's and History Lessons**

* * *

Sean worked the bolt of the rifle in Santos’ courtyard. “This bitch moves like a pregnant heifer,” Sean grunted, glaring at the Spaniard. “This is the best rifle you could get us?”

“The best rifle at the price you can afford,” Santos said, his face still locked in an ever-present grin. “Of course, you could always secure a rifle from the Nazis.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to make do,” Havoc said, staring at the hunting rifle. “I’m not the best shot, but I think I can -- ”

“I’ll do it,” Sean said. “The bastard has the gall to still think he can be forgiven for what he’s done? Oh, I’m gonna send him to God myself for his sins.”

“Then I wish you both the best of luck,” Santos said. “Any informant is bad for my business.”

The pair nodded, moving through the pre-dawn streets to their appointed place. They were to be on a balcony across the street from the church of St. Eustace. Havoc wondered if in the religion Sean belonged to, there was some kind of symbolism in the assassination being carried out there. Still, a dead informant was a dead informant. There was hardly any movement this early in the day, a few of the working girls still trying to grab a desperate customer before it was too late or a bakery already firing the ovens. Havoc ignored the tempting smell of fresh bread and focused on the mission.

“So,” he asked, glancing at Sean. “I can’t help but realize Fr. Denis didn’t tell us what the signal would be.”

“Oh, a priest like him?” Sean chuckled. “We’ll know who the informant is.”

Havoc shook his head, listening to the city in the morning. The propaganda still blared, he couldn’t imagine that being any fun for the locals to listen to when they were trying to get some sleep. They’d have to see about solving that little problem along with securing the neighborhoods. The city proper was still asleep, the only people present a few scattered soldiers and working girls. They were carrying the rifle in a canvas tarp, Sean holding a ladder over his shoulder. They were painters that morning, simple workers trying to earn a living in the harsh occupation.

Coming up on the church, Havoc thought the building was more of a fortress than a house of worship. Towering masonry rose from the street, massive stained glass windows looking out on the streets below. A crowed was starting to gather, but Havoc realized as Sean walked forward that the ledge wasn’t around the church. The ledge was _on_ the church. “Uh, Sean,” Havoc said, suddenly nervous about the plan. “You’re sure this is where we should be?”

“As I am about the bust sizes of the girls in the Belle,” Sean said, grinning as he strolled up to the church. Havoc saw that there was scaffolding around the building, and was thankful they could at least make it up the side of the building without too much trouble. He followed Sean up the nearest ladder, making it onto the roof without issue.

Until he saw a Nazi standing ten feet away from them.

Havoc froze, then realized the Nazi was too busy smoking to realize the pair was there. Sean grinned, creeping up on the man quieter than Havoc expected. The Nazi didn’t even notice something was wrong until he heard Sean drop the ladder. By then it was too late, and Sean had his hands twisting the Nazi’s neck. The man dropped behind the lip of the roof, Sean smiling as he bent down and picked up a rifle with a scop. Working the action, he laughed and turned to Havoc. “Looks like Santos won’t be getting us killed today.”

“Wait,” Havoc said, turning to the street. “He was ready to start sniping into a crowd? God, the bastard.”

“Aye,” Sean said, moving along the roof. “It’s like the Nazis have no regard for human life.”

Following Sean farther up the side of the building, Havoc soon found himself looking out over the side at the long drop down. Taking a breath, he follow Sean around the back of the roof, hearing a dull murmur in the distance as they came up on their target scene.

Fr. Denis stood behind a small wood lectern, four priests on either side of him. There was a small crowd of worshippers assembled on a flight of steps below him, heads bowed in prayer. Three men came up, kneeling and making the same blessing gesture on themselves. “To us who are alive, may He grant forgiveness,” the priest said unto the crowd. “And to all those who have died a place of light and peace.”

Sean dropped to his belly on the scaffolding, making quick adjustments to the scope and sighting in. Havoc noticed how well he worked the tools he had, chambering a round and picking out his target area. This was something Sean knew well, something that was almost second nature.

Another trio of men came up, and Fr. Denis gave the same blessing. Havoc glared down at the process, wondering how obvious the priest would make it. If they shot the wrong man, the Resistance would look like random murderers, and that would make fighting the Nazis even harder.

Then, another trio came before Fr. Denis. Havoc couldn’t see the expression on the priest’s face, but he noticed that his words were angrier. “And let the sinners among us repent,” he cried out, holding his hands high over his head. “Or face the terrible sword of His vengeance!” As Fr. Denis called out, he pointed at the man directly in front of him.”

“Hope he’s read you your last rights fucker,” Sean said, squeezing the trigger.

The informant’s brains blew out from his right temple, the crowd screaming out in shock.

“Rot in hell,” Sean said, dropping the rifle and pushing himself up. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

The pair sprinted along the side of the roof again, until Sean stopped at a ledge. “What are you doing,” Havoc barked. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna jump off the side of this church!”

“Not off the side,” Sean grinned. Taking off his coat, he threw it over an electrical line leading from the church to a block of apartments across the street. “Suicide’s a sin after all.” Smiling, Sean leapt from the ledge and slid down the power line. Groaning, Havoc pulled off his jacket and did the same. The wind rushed along his face, but it worked. The sirens in the distance fell away, leaving Sean and Havoc to stroll off as they landed on the ground from three feet instead of eighty.

“Always feels good doesn’t it,” Sean said, throwing his coat back on. “Doing the work of the Church on earth?”

“You’re nuts, you know that,” Havoc said, pulling his jacket back on. “Totally certifiable!”

“Maybe, but the informant’s dead,” Sean said, grinning. “That puts Fr. Denis in our graces. Meaning soon we’ll have the best source of information in Paris.”

“God, this is ridiculous,” Havoc said, following Sena back to the Belle. “How much power does this church have in the city?”

Sean laughed as the pair went. “Christ, America really is a land of heathens,” he said.

* * *

Korra took a breath, mentally preparing herself. She knew what was coming, and accepted it was part of being in this universe in their situation. Steeling herself, she slid the panel open into the dressing room of the Belle.

“Oh, good morning.” It was one of the brunettes that said it to Korra, her bathrobe open to reveal a body with all the right curves. Korra’s mind idly realized she could give Ginger a run for the yuan back home. “If you’re looking for Sean, he’s already left with that handsome blonde American.”

“Uh, no, not looking for Sean,” Korra said, trying to keep her eyes from lingering anywhere for too long. “Just trying to get some breakfast is all.”

“Are you alright?” The brunette’s smoky voice wormed its way into Korra’s ears, the avatar flinching as the woman put a hand on Korra’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever, but you look like you’re getting red.” Korra tried to answer, but the bathrobe came undone and she jerked her head in the opposite direction so fast the bones in her neck cracked.

“What are you -- ” The brunette seemed insulted, then looked down and realized what had happened. Cinching up the robe again, she giggled. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“No, uh, it’s totally fine,” Korra said, waving her hands in front of her as she realized the other women in the dressing room were looking over. “It’s my fault for looking, right?”

“What are you…” The brunette trailed off, as if something went off in her head. Then she laughed and backed away from Korra. “Ah, I see, you are a Sapphist?”

“If that’s what they call it over here,” Korra groaned, still trying to find anywhere to look _but_ at where the guests of the Belle were expected to. “You’re not mad are you?”

“Why should we be,” the brunette said, smiling as she sat down again. “The men pay well if they wish to see it, especially in the rooms.”

Korra’s brain short-circuited, the idea of even a single pair of these women putting on a private show for her. She was left standing in the middle of the dressing room, proverbial smoke pouring from her mouth and ears for a few seconds before she rebooted. “Oh, okay then, I think. I’m kinda thankful, back where we came from there’s someone who kept giving Asami and I all kinds of trouble for it.”

“You won’t find that here,” the woman said, pausing as she checked her eyebrows. “Because of this work, we are all outcasts. Before the war, the rich of the city would come to see us at night before condemning us in the day. Then the Nazis came, and the rich that couldn’t escape decided it was easier to serve their new masters. Men like Luc Gaudin are the only true Frenchmen left.”

“The same thing happened in my home,” Korra said, eyes drifting to the floor. “I mean it stopped, but for a while it felt like the bad guys had totally taken over.”

“Then your home was lucky,” the brunette said, sighing as she turned her head to the ceiling. “We’ve lived under the Nazis for three years, forced to scrape and crawl before them so we could survive. This Resistance feels like we can finally stand up for ourselves again.”

“That’s always a plus,” Korra said, starting to move past the fact that the women inside the room were all half-or-totally nude. “I didn’t get your name, by the way.”

“Collette,” she said, holding out her hand. “I believe your name is Korra, _non_?”

“Yeah, it is,” Korra said, smiling a little now. “Hey, thanks again for the help the other night. We wouldn’t have been able to get those soldiers out without the help.”

“Well remember, we’re more than happy to help,” Collette said, her voice enticing. “After all, you’re out there every night, and you must need some help to relax when it’s all over.”

Korra felt her brain start to fry again when she heard the door behind her slide open. “Hey Korra,” Asami said, walking up with an awkward smile. She was doing the same thing as Korra, trying to focus on anything but the dressing room around her. “Getting some breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Korra said, snapping back to reality. “Let’s go upstairs, maybe they’ve got something ready.”

Collette stared at the pair, then chuckled when she realized why Korra jumped. “ _C’est l’amour._ ”

* * *

By the afternoon, everyone was gathered in the basement of La Villette. Havoc had a stick in hand, pointing to a map of the city. “This is La Villette” he said, circling an area marked with blue X for their hideout. “We also have a foothold in Montmartre, where the Belle is, as well as the Gare De L’Est. Closer to where we are now, there’s also a strong pro-resistance presence in Canal Saint Martin. The Nazis are hurting right now, they’re facing the fact that there are still people in the city willing to fight. Since we’ve done plenty of Santos’ dirty work and stolen a decent amount of weapons from the Nazis, I say we go on the offensive.”

“The Nazis have positions riddled across these neighborhoods,” Luc said, standing on the other side of the map. “Guard towers, propaganda speakers, high ranking officers tasked with keeping order. By destroying these positions and killing these occupiers, we will spark new life into the people’s struggle to be free.”

“Aye, but dying won’t do us much good,” Sean said. “More important, the Nazis aren’t going to sit with a thumb up their asses and let us do as we please. They’ll target the locals for what we do.”

“He’s right,” Bolin said, eyes focused on the map. “The only way this can work is if we also interrupt any efforts by the Nazis to terrorize the innocent people in the city.”

“That we can do where and when we see it,” Havoc said. He paused, noticing Al staring at him with anguished eyes. Steeling himself, he went on. “Le Crochet’s men are still here to help us, that gives us better odds than we had before. We’ll split our efforts between the four neighborhoods. I’ll take the Gare De L’est, since it’s a train station it’s gonna be heavily guarded by the Nazis. Sean, I want you and Fuery to handle Montmartre. You know the area best, you’ll be in the perfect position to clear it.”

“It’ll be a pleasure,” Sean said, grinning as he smoked. Havoc could see his eyes were alight with the devilish work to come.

“Breda, you take Falman, Al, and May. You three clear out Canal Saint Martin.” Breda nodded his ascent. “Asami, your team takes the neighborhood around La Villette with Luc.”

“We’ll do our best,” Asami said.

“There’s something else,” Luc said, turning to Havoc. “The cathedral north of _La Belle_ houses several sensitive Nazi positions, anti-air batteries that hinder the British and American bombers. They will not target it as they fear the Nazis using it against them as propaganda. Once the fighting begins in earnest, we need to ensure that these threats are eliminated. Once the Nazis have their attention focused on our efforts, we must destroy these positions.”

“Then a distraction might help” Havoc said, glancing at Fuery. “Think you can handle that?”

“I am getting a little annoyed by those speakers everywhere,” Fuery said, nodding. “Let’s hear the plan.”

“ _Bon_ ,” Luc said, smiling at the group. “Let us prepare for our offensive. In one week, the world will know that the French fight on! _Vive la France!_ ”

* * *

Dierker looked over the reports in his office, looking out on the Christian affront that was Notre Dame. Herr Himmler’s thoughts on the matter were absolute, that the Christian God was nothing but Jewish cultism masquerading as a religion. Soon, the Aryan people would return to the old ways, the ways of their ancestors. They would not celebrate the death of a Jewish fraud, but their own divine blood and ancestors.

It had been a busy week for his agents. Two Wehrmacht officers killed, along with one of his superiors in the SS as he made a personal patrol of the red light district. One of their watch posts had been destroyed, along with an armored car. One of the Wehrmacht’s generals had even had his personal car stolen, though Dierker noticed that the report was scant on details of how he’d acquired said vehicle. Then there was the loss of two informants, men who had proven themselves loyal to the ideals of the Reich. The fact that the Nazis had proverbial and literal guns everywhere didn’t even enter into his mind.

“The rats are starting to become restless,” Franziska purred, lounging on a couch she’d had placed in the office. “Perhaps this is an issue?”

“Only if one sees it that way,” Dierker said, smiling as he moved the reports to the side. “The Wehrmacht still has operational control of the city. Gen. Eckhardt will answer to Berlin for these problems, while the SS and Gestapo will explain that they are only doing what they are allowed by his orders. Soon, the Fuhrer will realize the mistake it was putting the old ass in command.”

“Hmmmm, I can’t wait,” Franziska said, shutting her eyes and tilting her head back with a wide smile. “You in command, willing to do whatever is necessary for the future of Germany and her people.”

Dierker rose from his desk, smile growing as he stared out at the cathedral. “Yes, it will be a grand day for Germany when it arrives.”

“Then you don’t see these insurgents as a problem?”

“They’re Gauls,” Dierker said, scoffing at the thought. “They couldn’t even fight off the Romans. We were the only peoples of Europe that held firm and fought back. The French have no fighting history, only luck.”

Franziska rose from the couch, stalking over to DIerker in her black corset and leather pants. “This will be your triumph then,” she said, stroking his chin as she came up from behind. “Maybe we can have some fun while we wait for Eckhardt’s removal?”

Dierker smiled, letting Franziska bend him over the desk. He heard her work his belt and felt his pants fall to the floor. He smiled in anticipation, seeing the shadow of her hand rising up…

The door knocked and opened. “Dierker, I…” Gen. Eckhardt walked in, taking in the sight of the SS major bent over his desk with his pants around his ankles. Eckhardt’s face frozen in expectant bliss, Franziska’s hand already coming down to fill the room with a solid slap before she realized they weren’t alone anymore.

The three stared at each other for a minute, totally silent, until Eckhardt backed out and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Havoc, Korra, and Bolin waited in the alley, checking their watches. It should’ve almost been time for the next report, and the trio were already bored. “Hey, Bolin,” Havoc said, the brim of his hat covering his eyes. “Does SS mean anything to you?”

“Yeah, it does,” Bolin said, sighing. “The _Schutzstaffel_ are the parmilitary arm of the Nazi Party. They’re the ones who rounded up everyone the Nazis said wasn’t human and sent them off to the concentration camps.”

“Geez, there’s even worse bad guys?” Korra groaned.

“Yeah, and they might be the bigger threat,” Bolin said. “I’ve noticed that so far it’s only the Wehrmacht that we’ve run into. If we keep causing problems, we’ll wind up seeing the SS increase their foothold to stamp out the resistance.”

“If they do,” Havoc said, turning to Bolin. “What will happen to the civilians?”

“The SS were infamous for their crimes against civilian populations,” Bolin said, his eyes going back to the documents he read about the Nazis for Kuvira’s trial. “Right now, in a place called Eastern Europe, they’ve already wiped out entire villages because the people in them are Jewish.”

“Wiped out?” Korra sat up a little straighter. “You mean they destroyed them?”

“Worse than that,” Bolin said, not looking up at Korra. “Specific units were tasked with finding these villages and killing anyone in them.”

Korra’s mind misfired. “Killing, wait what, what do you mean kill them? They killed whole villages?”

“They started out shooting them in mass graves,” Bolin said, shutting his eyes. “They realized this wasn’t ‘efficient’ enough, so they decided to start using trucks equipped with specialized gas sprayers. They’d round up the village, then march them in groups into the gas truck before throwing the bodies into mass graves.”

Havoc was silent for a second before he turned to Bolin. “What about the regular army?”

“They didn’t have any vans,” Bolin said. “They still assisted the SS in the exterminations. They were the ones fighting to expand the Nazi concept of ‘living space’. To clear the way so the SS could come in and kill the people who didn’t hem to Hitler’s idea of the Aryan ideal.”

Korra stared down at the ground, trying to process what she’d heard. She’d heard the stories of the Fire Nation’s efforts to wipe the water benders out of the Southern Water tribe. That was when she realized that what happened to Katara’s mother wasn’t just the Fire Nation wiping out potential threats.

That’s when she realized what Amon was doing when he captured Tenzin and the kids.

It was a long, painful silence until the portal opened. Tossing his cigarette away, Havoc glared into the camera on the second MALP. “Gen. Hammond, are you there?” The MALP nodded. “Any progress on getting us out of here sir?” A shake of the camera. “Sir, we’re dealing with a heavily entrenched enemy that has control over a major metropolitan region in our operations area. Given that this enemy is clearly genocidal and willing to undertake illegal and terrorist means to achieve victory, we’ll need some kind of materiel support until we can return to the SGC. Preferably weapons that hem to the period of time we’re currently in.”

There was silence for a few minutes. Then a box slid through the portal. There was a note atop it, and Havoc knelt down. “Well,” Korra said, voice the barest hint of shaky. “What’s it say?”

“Report back in one week for further supplies,” Havoc said, grinning as he opened the crate to reveal block after block of plastic explosives with detonators and triggers. “On behalf of all the Jewish personnel in the SGC: Take those Nazis down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Hope you're still enjoying the story, we're gonna have a new cover for this one soon enough!
> 
> Remember, feel free to comment on what you like, what needs work, or what you think in general. Stay tuned, more to come!


	10. Chapter 9 - Sacré-Cœur

**Chapter 9 - Sacré-Cœur  
**

* * *

It was a quiet Sunday, the city of Paris waking to another day of occupation. Children still managed to play in the streets, though they kept far away from the gray-uniformed soldiers their parents told them to avoid as if they had a plague. Cafes and restaurants did what business they could, though German rationing made it troubling, bordering on impossible.

[The propaganda](https://youtu.be/HM-E2H1ChJM?t=46) speakers droned on, reminding everyone that the Reichsmark was to become the new currency of France and to turn in anything of value. Except the broadcasts on several speakers cut out. That was when a familiar song started to play, _Le Marseillaise_ roaring onto the streets of Paris, the Parisians stopping and looking up in confusion and joy. The Nazis on patrol were just confused, looking around for some sign of what was happening. The people stopped, staring up with smiles and wide eyes. Some even started to sing along, belting out their anthem loud and proud. The Nazi patrols looked around for some kind of orders. It was on their speakers after all, and singing wasn’t a crime. Was it?

[This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4gDxKcFCkM) distracted from the movement around the four target neighborhoods. Bombs were planted at the bases of watch towers and next to refueling stations. Shooters moved along the rooftops, setting up their shots as they waited for their targets. Some carried stolen Nazi weapons, others smuggled shotguns and hunting rifles. They drove bomb-laden cars as close as they could to their targets and waited, watching as the Nazis tried to figure out what was happening. They prayed to themselves, many carrying rosaries and kissing the crucifix before the time came. They pulled up armbands of blue, marked with the red _Croix de Lorraine_. This was their announcement, their formal reveal that the fight was not yet finished. France’s military had surrendered, true, but her people were not so easily cowed. As their nation’s anthem played out once more, they steeled themselves. This would be a red day.

The final chords of the anthem played out, the civilians shouting out with pride now. The day started in earnest seconds later. A series of explosions ripped through the streets, as gunfire tore through the alleys.

Nazis would die.

Havoc opened up on a trio of Nazis standing in the middle of the street, staring dumbfounded at a speaker tower. They dropped like sacks of bricks, landing in a heap in the middle of the street. Breda put a shotgun up against a Nazi’s back and fired both barrels, throwing the Nazi a good three inches. Fuery fired alongside two of the resistance on a Nazi vehicle, raking the car and the Nazis inside with lead. Falman threw a grenade into a refueling point, throwing up a fireball and tossing one Nazi headfirst through a car window.

Korra charged a pair of Nazis in the street, shooting one in the head with her pistol as she pummeled the other. Asami kept her covered, firing an MP 40 at a trio of Nazis huddling behind a bread truck. Bolin and Mako put dozens of rounds into a Nazi officer, sending him tumbling back down a flight of steps in the street.

The neighborhoods were in chaos, Nazi soldiers trying to navigate through panicking civilians to their targets. Exploding refueling stations went off everywhere, shaking the ground and distracting the soldiers. Guard towers crumpled, the men atop them screaming as they landed on the pavement. The lucky ones died instantly. The unlucky ones lingered, crying out for help. The really unlucky ones got to watch as their towers, bearing the swastika, crushed them.

Sean tore through Montmartre, laughing as he cut down jackboot after jackboot. The bastards were either still hungover from last night, or hadn’t expected the local whorehouses and cabarets to house resistance fighters. He saw one Nazi trying to reload, and sprinted. The Nazi was young, inexperienced. He fumbled to pull his magazine from his pouch, then to slide it into the well. By the time he even had his hand on the charging handle, Sean had decked him across the face then riddled him with bullets. Fuery backed him up, firing on any potential threats from the rooftops.

He saw someone sprint out of the Belle, rushing for Sean. Fuery raised his weapon, until he recognized the man as Vittore. He and Sean spoke in the streets, until Sean pulled a pistol from his satchel and held it out. Vittore looked at Sean, then smiled and took the pistol. Grinning, Fuery turned around and fired down on another group of Nazis trying to respond to the attack. They ran up the street with their weapon up, looking like some kind of parody of soldiers. Fuery was more than happy to show them the punchline of their joke.

Breda was having his own time in Canal Saint Martin. Falman kept him covered as he set a charge at the base of one of the Nazi watchtowers. He set the detonator for thirty seconds, but as he started to run he saw a Nazi about to open fire from across the plaza next to the canal. That was when May came flying down on him, putting his head between her feet and the pavement. Breda grinned, sprinting away from the exploding tower. He joined Falman behind an overturned Nazi car, grinning as he reloaded his shotgun. “What do you think,” Breda laughed, putting fresh shells in each barrel. “Nothing like back with Briggs, huh?”

“At least it’s warmer,” Falman said, leaning around the wreck to fire at a Nazi officer trying to organize a response. “Where’s Al?”

“Had to put him on the rooftops,” Breda said, flicking the shotgun up with a click. “Don’t think having to kill for the first time did him any favors.”

“Oh boy,” Falman said, as a burst from a Nazi SMG pinged against the car. “Think he’ll be alright?”

“Even if he isn’t, he can’t exactly go anywhere.” Popping up, Breda fired both barrels at a Nazi running along the canal. The soldier cried out, falling over the railing and landing with a hard splash.

“Have you noticed May’s taken to it pretty quick?” Falman asked, another explosion destroying a Nazi armored car next to a bridge on the canal.

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” Breda said, thinking about the concept as a flaming Nazi patrol car sped down the avenue. “Was Xing in a war before this?”

“No, but Xing’s noble families have been feuding with each other for centuries in order to secure the seat of the Emperor for their clans.”

“We’ll ask about it later then,” Breda said, putting the shotgun to his shoulder and firing up. Three seconds later, a dead Nazi fell from the rooftops. “Might help the kid feel better.”

The fighting around La Villette was brutal. Not because of the Nazis, but because of Bolin. The earthbender appeared a man possessed, charging headlong into Nazi positions regardless of the fire coming at him. He kicked down barricades and dove into entire squads, ignoring the hits taken from the soldiers as he put his fist through their teeth. Even if it felt a lifetime ago, his experience in pro-bending and on the streets taught him how to take a hit.

“Spirits,” Asami whispered, reloading her pistol. “Is Bolin trying to kill himself?”

“Not sure,” Korra said, worried about the enraged look in Bolin’s eyes. “Mako, have you ever seen him like this?”

“Not even when our parents died,” Mako said, changing magazines for his pistol. Mako watched as his brother grabbed a Nazi by the neck and beat the man’s face into a bloody smear before shooting another Nazi he’d pinned under his boot. “This isn’t like him.”

“What are you all doing,” Luc shouted, firing at a Nazi in a black uniform. “He’s the only one out there fighting, you need to do more! We must inspire the people, show them our courage!”

“We can do that without dying,” Mako shouted back.

“Then prove it!” Luc backed up his point by standing up and firing off a clip of rounds at a Nazi trying getting ready to throw a grenade. He caught the Nazi in the arm, the grenade falling behind the barricade his squad was behind. Seconds later, the squad had split up. Literally.

Mako poked his head up over their cover, and ducked down a half-second before more fire raked the bricks they were covering behind. “This is nuts! When something like this happens you cordon off the area, make sure you’re clear of civilians! What are these lunatics doing still sending forces in?”

Korra thought about what Bolin said, about how these were people who saw others as sub-human. As uncivilized animals who deserved the same treatment, _worse_ treatment, than Le Crochet and his men had been subject to. “Who cares, it means less Nazis later.” Popping up, Korra roared as she fired at the Nazis charging their way. And missing every shot. Asami groaned as Korra ducked back behind cover, and another sniper’s next above the neighborhood came crashing down.

In front of the Gare De L’Est, Havoc planted his third bomb at the base of a third guard tower in front of the station. A car bomb had destroyed the armored car posted in front of the station, and the Legionnaires had kept a solid perimeter around the front of the station. It helped that there were forces being diverted to try and tame the other neighborhoods as well. Setting the timer, Havoc armed the device and sprinted back to the burning hulk of the armored car.

It was ridiculous, the way the Nazis had left themselves so vulnerable. They honestly seemed to think that conquering a nation meant they automatically won, that there wouldn’t be any resistance to their occupation. Dropping a pair of Nazis trying to rush out from the front of the station, Havoc was doing his best to show them their stupidity.

He checked his watch, and turned to the nearest Frenchman. “Hey, you!”

The Frenchman fired his rifle, not turning as he shouted back, “ _Oui, monsieur!_ ”

“I’m gonna make my move to the Belle,” Havoc said. “As soon as you destroy the last positions in front of the train station, fall back and going into hiding!”

“ _Oui_ , go!” The Legionnaire leaned out from cover and gave Havoc some breathing room to make his move.

The streets along the route were a chaotic mess of lingering civilians, routing Nazis, and burning wreckage. The sidewalks bore burning Nazi cars and bodies, scattered resistance fighters spaced out along the way. It was the nature of an ambush that your foes often died in ridiculous and humiliating positions. Some of the Nazis died with dumbfounded stares on their faces, if they still had any. Some had been run over by cars, laying underneath them like a joke in an old comedy movie. Havoc saw arms and legs sticking out from the rubble of blasted guard towers, gray uniforms hanging off of rooftops, and smoking cars riddled with bullets.

The Resistance died with more dignity. They died standing up, some still gripping their weapons when they died. Some of the wounded were making their way to cover, blood staining their blue armbands as they ran. He passed one Resistance fighter, laying dead against a door of a bakery. The man’s hand was still wrapped around his pistol, the other gripping a torn red Nazi armband.

The gunfire was starting to taper off, and Havoc ran harder. He had to reach Sean before the Nazis moved in to pacify the area, then take out the anti-air positions at the cathedral. He saw the neon signs of the Belle, and saw a pair of Nazis trying to run from the front of the building. They were cut down by pistol fire, followed by Vittore running after them. Havoc grinned and called out, “Vittore!”

“Ah, Havoc,” Vittore said, waving the man over. “Sean and your man Fuery are behind the Belle. Go, before these _fascista_ actually become a threat!”

Havoc nodded, running through the Belle to the back. Ignoring the shrieks that soon turned into cheers and catcalls, Havoc ran out the back to see Sean and Fuery loading up on explosives. “Fancy little gadgets you’ve got here,” Sean said grinning as he held up one wired blocks of C-4. “Better than an alarm clock and some wires.”

“Well, we have plenty of money to spend,” Havoc said, smiling. He had a few questions about Sean’s past, but he was glad to know that some of their tricks wouldn’t draw too much attention. “How’d it go here?”

  
“No problems with us,” Fuery said, grabbing a new magazine for his SMG. “Seriously, how did these idiots take over so much if they can’t even respond to an attack like this?”

“Starting to wonder that myself,” Havoc said, grabbing magazines of his own. “How do we get into the cathedral? I’d prefer to go through the back, even if I think we could waltz through the front door.”

“Couldn’t blame ya,” Sean said, loading his MP 40. “There’s a wall around the cathedral, but I think we’ll have a good way in. Stick we me, that way you won’t get yourselves lost.”

* * *

Sean lead the pair of “Americans” around the city, bypassing the worst of the Nazi defenses at the cathedral. Havoc saw at least five guard towers in the direct path up to the objective. Even as stupid as these Nazis were, trying to make it through that kind of defense was borderline-suicide.

After a half-hour, Havoc was close enough to see the specific guard posts around the position. The trio watched as the guards in front of the cathedral stared down on the havoc in the city. On either side of the building, raised platforms supporting two anti-air batteries each, with a massive searchlight flanking both.

Skirting around the walls, Sean motioned for them to half and pointed. Havoc saw it, a blown-out section of wall only blocked by a single wooden barricade. He nodded to Sean, following the Irishman over the barrier to see one of their targets. It was a flatbed trailer, with a strange aerial spinning atop it. Wires ran to large generator on wheels, the soldiers that were supposed to be guarding it staring toward the smoke drifting up from the city.

Havoc moved silent across the lawn, moving up behind one of the guards. Havoc put the man in a choke, cutting off the flow of blood to the brain. Sean did the same, the Nazi in his hands flailing for a minute in futile silence. Finished, the trio looked around and saw nothing. Dragging the bodies back to the spinning aerial, Havoc looked up at Fuery. “Wait I’m on the ladder to the nearest platform, them set the charge and detonate it.”

Fuery nodded, grabbing a block of explosive as Havoc and Sean moved for the front of the cathedral. Havoc kept his weapon up as he moved, watching as the Nazis remained focused on the city below. “ _Thank God these idiots can’t stand watch to save their dumbass lives._ ” Creeping up on the platform, he saw two soldiers talking to each other as the city burned beneath their position. Grinning, Havoc checked Sean’s position. He saw the Irishman already atop his target, sneaking up on a separate pair of soldiers with a pistol out.

An explosion behind them shook the cathedral, the two Nazis turning around to see what happened. They were met with Havoc holding up his SMG. The last thing they saw was Havoc’s grin as he squeezed the trigger. The pair fell backwards, that was when fire came down on him. Ducking behind the anti-air gun, Havoc leaned his head around to see what was happening. There were two guard towers behind the fence in front of the cathedral, two sentries firing down on them from the positions, Havoc tried to lean around and fire back, but the fire from the sentries around the position kept him pinned. “ _Shit, nice going Jean! C’mon, there’s gotta be a way to get around this._ ” He looked around, trying to find any tools that could –

_BOOM_

Havoc shuddered, his ears ringing as he turned to see Sean in the seat of the anti-air guns on his platform. As the guns rotated, one of the towers shuddered and collapsed across the steps leading to the cathedral. The Nazi in the second guard tower saw what was coming, and tried to slide down the ladder to his tower. He was about halfway down before Sean fired and that tower was turned to wreckage. “ _Well,_ ” Havoc thought, sticking his C-4 to the battery. “ _That’s one way around a problem._ ”

Setting the charge, Havoc slid down the ladder as Fuery ran up. “Destroy the searchlights!” Fuery nodded, laying down fire on the Nazis as he moved for the searchlight next to the platform. Havoc sprinted for the other, seeing Sean slide down the ladder of the platform.

Fire raked the stones around Havoc as he ran past the doors of the cathedral. Gritting his teeth, he made it to the searchlight and set the C-4.

“Helluva day,” Sean laughed walking backward as he fired at the Nazis. “What’ve you got for an encore?”

“Check the inside,” Havoc shouted, double-checking the bomb.

Sean ran to the doors, stopping at the edge and peering inside. He saw two beefy Nazis in the cathedral, ducked behind the pews until the fired off a wild burst toward the doors. Sean rolled his eyes, letting them fire away as the two searchlights exploded.

Havoc ran over, Sean noticing some blood trickling down the man’s right arm. “What’ve we got?”

“I’d call’em bodyguards,” Sean said, another burst ripping out of the doors. “Must be a real important fella inside here if they’re still fighting.”

“So where is he,” Havoc whispered. He looked over to see Fuery on the other side of the doors. “Fuery, keep us covered, we’re gonna go in!”

Fuery waited, another burst ripping out the doors before he leaned in and started firing. He saw the Nazis duck below the pews and shouted, “Now!” He stopped firing long enough for Havoc and Sean to slip in, the pair splitting up as Fuery kept covering them. The Nazis poked their weapons up, trying to fire blind at the doors.

Havoc crept along the side of the cathedral, the shots echoing through the cavernous marble hall. He heard his target whispering something in German, a panicked rattle of words that held no meaning. Havoc heard the sound of an empty magazine being dropped, and seized the chance. He sprinted ahead, coming up on the row where the Nazi was ducking down. The only thing the gray uniformed fascist could do was stare as Havoc unloaded into him.

Looking up, he saw Sean not wasting any rounds on the other Nazi. He was decking the soldier across the face, his knuckles bloodier from each hit. The Nazi fell back, crying out. That was when Sean started kicking the man.

“ _HALT!_ ” Both men turned to see a Nazi officer walking out, but he wasn’t alone. A woman in black vestments was in front of him, a pistol to the side of her head. “ _Lass mich gehen, oder ich werde sie erschießen!_ ”

“What’s he saying,” Havoc said, not taking his eyes off the man.

“No idea,” Sean said, glaring at the officer. “But the fucker’s in a real hurry to go to Hell from the looks of it.”

“ _Britische und amerikanische Schweine,_ ” the Nazi growled. “ _Sie werden die macht Deutschlands nicht aufhalten --_ ” That was all the officer said before Sean rushed the man, putting his fist straight through the officer’s nose.

As the nun screamed and fell to the floor, Sean kept beating the man’s face in growling, “I’m! Fucking! Irish!”

Havoc ran to the side of the nun, pulling her up saying, “Hey, hey, you’re alright. Did he hurt you?”

“ _Non_ ,” the nun said, wiping her young blue eyes and looking up at Havoc with tears threatening to burst forth. “ _Merci_ , if you hadn’t stopped him, I…”

“It’s alright,” Havoc said, pulling the woman close “You’re alive. Stay hidden and don’t let them find you -- ”

“Oi, that’s a nun,” Sean said, pulling Havoc back. “She’s already got a man in her life, don’t be holding her like that.” Looking to the back of the cathedral, Sean stared at the back. Havoc saw there was a massive statue of a cross, with a man on it wearing a crown of thorns. “ _Jeez, they worship a man being tortured to death?_ ”

Sean moved his hand in a cross, up, down, left, right, before grabbing Havoc. “C’mon, I think we’ve done our good works for the day.”

As the trio ran from the cathedral, Havoc grabbed the detonator. Until he was grabbed by Sean, a devilish look in his eye. “Hang on,” Sean whispered, grinning as he stared up at the sky.

Eckhardt glared down at the city from the Pantheon, watching as smoke rose from the north. A zeppelin was already moving into position, searchlights sweeping the apartments below.

“We’re still compiling casualties Herr Eckhardt,” one of his aides said, the young _leutnant_ standing at attention behind his commander. “We’ve already colleceted several bodies of the insurgents.”

“I don’t care about their bodies,” Eckhardt said, raising his binoculars. “I want those watch posts rebuilt immediately.”

“That will be difficult sir,” the aide said. “All available steel is being utilized for new tank production for the Eastern Front.”

Eckhardt’s jaw tightened. Hadn’t they gained enough living space from Poland and the Czechs? No, of course that fool Austrian corporal had to declare war on the Soviets too! Yes, the communists needed to die, but not while they had a war against the English! He stared through his binoculars, and swore again. There was smoke coming from the cathedral north of the city. “They targeted our anti-air position as well. Alert the Luftwaffe that we’ll need further guns to -- ”

There was a boom, Eckhardt ducking from instinct. That was when he saw the zeppelin burst into flames, falling to earth like a meteor seconds before another explosion blossomed from the front of the cathedral. Eckhardt’s eye twitched for a few seconds before he finally said, “Increase the patrols on the streets.”

The aide almost got a word out before the sound of the zeppelin crashing to earth silenced them both.

* * *

The Belle was quiet that night, none of the Nazis had been let out to partake in their nightly debauchery after the attack and the civilians didn’t want to risk being caught out after curfew. “Well isn’t that a shame,” Sean laughed, staring out at the empty street from the front door. “No business tonight.”

“You might laugh,” Collette pouted. “None of us will make any money tonight.”

“Hey, we still did the job,” Havoc said, raising a glass his seat at the bar. He had a bandage on his right arm, the wound wasn't deep, and the girls of the Belle fawning over him for his bravery as Veronique bandaged him up didn't hurt. “We gave’em a black eye, and we all made it back alive.”

“Some more than others,” Mako said, glancing sideways at a singed Bolin. The earthbender reeked of smoke, but he didn’t deny his brother the smile on his face.

“But did it work,” Veronique said, closing up the first aid kit. “Do you think the people will see that this means they can fight?”

“We won’t know for some time,” Luc said, smoking and nursing a cognac at one of the tables before the quiet stage. “Still, they do know that the fight is not yet over. We have struck a blow for liberty today my friends, we should drink to that at least.”

“Aye, but not the way you’re doing it,” Sean said, looking to Mssr. Rousseau. “Have you got any of the finer bottles left?”

[“You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcqRuVf3Ikw) think I would serve those _bosche_ my finest stock?” Mssr. Rousseau laughed, nodding to a muscular bouncer standing to the side of the bar. The man nodded, opening another panel off from the bar. He went into the hidden room, and came out a minute later bearing a crate filled with bottles of an amber brown liquid.

“You kept the best of it,” Sean laughed, going over and pulling up a bottle. “Ah, straight from Antrim.”

Mssr. Rousseau brought out a dozen shot glasses, but Vittore started backing away. “No thank you Sean,” he said, cringing. “I learned my lesson after the last time.”

“More for us,” Sean laughed, grabbing one of the bottles and tearing the cork out. “C’mon you bastards, no sense in letting this go to waste.”

Havoc looked to Luc. “We’re sure the Nazis won’t come looking?”

“Then they would have to admit to their commanders they’ve been coming here each night,” Luc said, laughing. “Celebrate my friends, this was our victory!”

“Alright then,” Breda said, grinning as he took one of the glasses and held it out to Sean. “Fill’er up buddy.”

“Careful now,” Sean said, smirking as he poured Breda the shot. “What I hear you Americans don’t know much about decent whisky.”

“I’ll handle myself fine thanks,” Breda said, waiting for Sean to pour his own glass. Both men raised theirs to the other, then threw back. That was when Breda’s eyes bugged out and he started hacking.

Sean started laughing, pouring himself another glass. “C’mon you bastards,” he said, pouring out more glasses. “This was made for times like this! Lord knows we didn’t have many in Ireland like today.”

The teams gathered around, if Luc was giving them the all clear then odds were they were safe to have a little fun. Korra sniffed at the glass and winced. It had a bite to it, far stronger than the beers she’d smelled in SG-1’s universe. She checked everyone else’s face, noticing similar reactions. Except for the Amestrian soldiers, who were all grinning, even Breda.

“Here’s to more dead jackboots,” Sean said, rising up and raising his glass. “ _Sláinte!_ ”

Korra realized this was a different beast from anything she’d had in other universes when she felt the burning fire shoot down her throat. Asami’s eyes went wide, a shudder running through her body. Mako nearly doubled over, and Bolin started hacking at the same time Al did. May started cursing in Xingese, trying to scrape at her tongue. The Amestrians had few coughs of their own, laughing at the sight of their teammates reactions as Sean poured out more drinks.

The night turned into a blur soon after. Everyone would wake up with vague memories of the night, trying their best to piece everything together what they went through. Korra had vague memories of grumbling to Asami about how being the avatar wasn’t all it was cracked up to be as Asami stared dreamily at Korra, her raven hair falling everywhere about herself. Mako made it to his fifth shot grumbling about life working under Beifong, and saying that if she found a hobby or partner every cop would have an easier life. Bolin was too busy being passed out facedown on the floor to listen to any of it, half-mumbling Opal’s name every few seconds. Al had a foggy recollection of describing what it was like being a suit of armor to a picture on the wall, asking it if it could relate as May giggled incessantly. Fuery, Falman, and Breda were too busy enjoying the pleasant company of the women of the Belle, grinning like idiots through their rosy cheeks as they went on and on about how brave and masculine and heroic the three were.

“This is great,” Fuery sighed, the woman next to him giggling. “This is nothing like home!”

“Yeah,” Falman said, until his face shifted and he said, “Because this _isn’t_ like home!” The three turned morose, and spent the rest of the night weeping that they needed to go to another universe to get this kind of attention. They all knew the minute they got back, it would be another nightmare of dealing with watching Mustang get every woman he came across as they were left with nothing but loneliness.

“Your people can’t seem to handle themselves,” Sean laughed, pouring another two shots for himself and Havoc. “Least they can fight worth a damn.”

“I know, good help is so hard to find,” Havoc laughed, starting to feel his mind go. “Still, I don’t think you’d have gotten half this far without us.”

“That a challenge,” Sean said, grinning as he threw back another shot.

“Only if you take it that way,” Havoc answered. “You know this is only the start of things.”

“Oh, I know all too well,” Sean said, his voice turning dark. “We’ll keep making’em pay though, I have to pay them back for what they did to Jules.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Havoc said, throwing back his shot. Shuddering as the fire shot through him, he slammed his glass on the table. He stood up, wobbling a bit and said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to do my Bolin imitation.” Nodding to Sean, Havoc turned right from the table, took a step, and faceplanted into the carpet.

“What’re you doing you bastard,” Sean laughed, the last thing Havoc heard for the night being, “You only made it through one bottle!”


	11. Chapter 10 - Place des Vosges

**Chapter 10 - Place des Vosges**

* * *

It was two days before the teams were back to any kind of operational capability. Korra’s team was especially laid low, Bolin swearing he’d never touch anything named Bushmills again. Al had nursed his throbbing head all day, grumbling about letting himself go along with a bad decision. May didn’t do much more than groan as she lay on the bed in the back.

Havoc gave them the day, but the next morning after that they were back to La Villette. He noticed that as he walked, there were fewer Nazis on patrol. Oh, they still walked the streets, reminding the people they were still under the occupation of a foreign power. Except they walked with less swagger, less authority. The people were brighter, they talk on the street livelier. He didn’t see anyone being accosted by a red-armband wearing thug, or hear propaganda blaring over the streets. The Nazis had been wounded, and knew it. That didn’t make the rest of their time any easier. Their enemy still controlled a majority of the city, and knew it. They needed to press harder, show that the resistance forces wouldn’t back down.

He stopped at the door of the basement in the slaughterhouse and knocked, waiting for the man behind the door to get a good look at him before opening up. Walking inside, Havoc saw the basement had been further organized. The armory had grown by at least three dozen weapons, and the radio section was better organized with stolen equipment. One man was speaking to a group of younger ones, standing in front of the map and speaking in French. If Havoc had to guess, it was new recruits for the resistance’s efforts.

He found Luc standing over the map table in his “room”, standing next to Veronique. He noticed the pair were standing particularly close, Veronique smiling and constantly brushing at her hair as she spoke to Luc. “Morning,” he said, grinning as he noticed the woman put some space between her and the leader of the resistance. “Planning anything special?”

“Indeed we are,” Luc said, either not realizing what Havoc had seen or, more likely, not caring. “The Nazis seem to have fallen back from the north of Paris. They still patrol the area, but they will not intrude unless they must answer insurrection. We have room to breathe at last.”

“What about Santos,” Havoc said, peering down at the map. “He more willing to give us what we need?”

“For a higher price,” Veronique scoffed. “We cannot trust that man, Luc. He will bleed us dry and do nothing should we need help.”

“It is what we must live with,” Luc replied, standing up. “His men get us the ammunition and medicine we need. Though I understand our American friends have found some excellent explosives.”

“Well, we couldn’t be your guests and not bring a few party favors,” Havoc said, grinning a little. “Alright, we secured the north of the city. What’s next?”

“It seems the British aren’t so anxious to involve themselves in our fight,” Veronique said, shaking her head. “Luc’s contacts with their intelligence network haven’t come forward to work with us. Even after we destroyed one of their anti-aircraft positions.”

“Yeah, well one position is a drop in a bucket right now,” Havoc said, looking down at the map. “What we need is something else to show that we’re worth the investment in time and resources.” Havoc kept his commentary there, no need to hang himself with information that could be wrong. “ _Dammit, isn’t Tracer British? Why couldn’t she be here?_ ”

“Thankfully we have other information we could use,” Luc said, tapping at the map. “Le Crochet has brought us information from allies in Spain. An ambassador will be meeting with the Nazi commanders in the city during a social event. If the Germans can convince Gen. Franco and his armies to join the war, it threatens to close off the Mediterranean. This could threaten the war in North Africa, and drag out the defeat of the Nazis.”

“Sounds like we need to show them that it’s not worth the risk,” Havoc said, taking out a cigarette. “Did he get us any additional information?”

“Only that the meeting would be taking place in tomorrow,” Luc said. “The Nazis will consider this a vital effort, and believe that Spain is indebted to them for their efforts during the civil war. The actions of Spanish forces in North Africa could tip the scales.”

“What about the civilians,” Havoc said, lighting up. “Have there been reprisals?”

“None yet,” Luc said. “Eckhardt may be hesitant to act so brazenly. He thinks he is a proper officer, only able to act against proper military targets. Should he unleash Dierker’s SS, there will be no mercy for the people of Paris.”

“Gotta love a tightrope act,” Havoc grumbled, taking a drag. “Alright, so our goal is to humiliate and demoralize the Nazis, while simultaneously keeping the people as safe as possible. All while trying to make contact with the British intelligence agents and sabotage efforts to prolong the war. Did I leave anything out?”

“Not dying would be helpful,” Luc said, grinning. “I must go and speak with some of the men, I’ll be back in a moment.” Putting a hand on Veronique’s shoulder, Luc smiled at her before moving on.

“So,” Havoc said, tapping some ash onto the floor. “How’s he doing after the attacks?”

“He’s quieter,” Veronique said, losing the soft smile she had for Luc. “He lost several friends during the fighting. He said that with their deaths we gained many more, but you can tell that he’s trying to bury the hurt of losing them.”

“Not surprised,” Havoc said, turning the map around so he could read it. “What about you?”

“I’m thankful so many survived,” she said, staring to pace the room. “I feel we were more lucky than skilled in this fight. I doubt the Nazis will give us such a chance again.”

“They probably won’t,” Havoc said, nodding as he looked over the north of the city. There were dozens of red Xs scattered over it, along with a giant red X where the cathedral was. “Still, we had a victory. However small it was, we still left a mark.”

“Of course, then you celebrated with Sean well into the morning,” Veronique said, laughing a little. “Your people lasted longer than most, at least. I’ve seen him drink some into stupor in under an hour.”

“High praise I suppose,” Havoc said, looking up at Veronique. “I guess you and Sean go back a long way then?”

“Almost fifteen years,” Veronique said. “When my brother and he started working with Vittore on his racing team. You’d best tell your two women agents to be careful, Sean can be quite the charming figure when he wants to be.”

“ _Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,_ ” Havoc thought.

“Of course, then there are the times where I wish we’d never met him.” Veronique’s voice turned despondent, her eyes glancing away. “If it weren’t for him, Jules would…Would…” She shut her eyes and turned her head away, taking a few deep breaths. It didn’t take a detective to understand that Sean had done something that got her brother hurt, if not killed. “I’m sorry,” she said, righting herself. “I simply wish that this hell had not come to pass.”

“I can’t blame you,” Havoc said. Standing up from the map, he rubbed at his forehead. “Jeez, how’re we supposed to take on a city full of Nazis on our own?”

“We’ve been looking into that,” Veronique said, turning to the map. “We’ve seen Santos’ people moving shipments in and out of the other Nazi zones of control. He says it’s for Nazi officers, but I can’t imagine why the Nazis would need weapons from an arms dealer.”

“So, we need to show these other groups that we’re worth working with,” Havoc said. “We’ll have to worry about that later, I guess.”

Veronique scoffed and said, “How typical,” she said. “Unless it’s actively trying to kill Americans, it isn’t a problem.” Havoc didn’t show any reaction to the taunt, but he did make sure to file it away.

Ten minutes later, Luc and Havoc finished speaking to the teams about what was going to happen. “An assassination,” Al said, sighing. He still looked defeated even after a few days of processing what happened.

“Doesn’t sound so hard,” Sean said, grinning. “Where’s the target?”

“One of Le Crochet’s men has the information _,_ ” Luc said. “We will meet him in the market near St. Eustache’s church, and he will provide you with what you need.”

“I’ll go along,” May said, everyone looking back at her in surprise. Al in particular looked like the bottom had fallen out from his stomach. “I can help make sure the mission is accomplished.”

Sean shifted, looking uneasy at the idea. “This won’t be some tea party,” he said, pulling out a flask. “Something like this’ll have guards at every corner, and the Nazis won’t take a death of an ambassador like they would the deaths of their soldiers.”

“It’s still one of our best options,” Breda said, thinking. “Too many of us gathered together in one place would make people suspicious, especially after our strike in the north. A two-person team carrying this out would be able to slip in and out before they realize what they’re looking for.”

“But that area of the city is still filled with Nazi positions and soldiers,” Veronique protested. “We can’t send her into certain death like this.”

“Ah,” Sean said, grinning. “But sending me into certain death is fine then?”

“If you are willing, who are we to stop you,” Luc said, smiling at May. “Go to the market tomorrow, meet with Le Crochet’s man. Show Gen. Franco the fate that waits for him should he come into the war.” The group split after that, Veronique glaring at Sean as the Irishman laughed things off.

“Hey,” Havoc said, moving up to May as the teams separated. “Are you sure you can do this?”

“What do you mean,” May said. “You didn’t have any problems when I joined Alphonse for these missions.”

“That’s because we had resources we don’t have here,” Havoc said. “You and Al aren’t the best shots, and the Nazis might be idiots but even they aren’t stupid enough to try and get up close to you two. It’ll be you and Sean, no one else.”

“I know, my clan has always been forced to face enemies with little help. Plus, I was the one being targeted in situations like this.” May’s words forced Havoc to lean back, turning them over in his head. “I know you’re worried, but in this situation? It helps to have someone that knows what it’s like to be the one being threatened.”

“Maybe,” Havoc sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Alright, fine, you can both go. Just…Just be careful, for Al’s sake if nothing else.”

May nodded, crossing her arms and putting on proud airs. “You forget, I’m the princess of the Chang Clan! Such things are well within my abilities to handle.”

“Yeah,” Havoc sighed, shaking his head. “That’s the attitude I’m worried about.”

* * *

The next morning, May and Sean walked into the market, thought to May it looked more like a scattered collection of refugees. The people inside either sold from run down tattered stalls, or begged for credit in front of them. Even in the Chang Clan, this was a sight of destitution. Some of the sellers had half-rotten fruits or meat, still bought by the desperate buyers. Others sold dented kitchenware or worn clothes that mothers holding children tried to negotiate better prices for. Some seemed willing to budge, the mothers gasping and thanking the merchant profusely. Others remained firm, the profiteers turning away the desperate while gleefully selling to those that paid their prices upfront. Old men sat on splintered benches, small fires burning in trash cans scattered about.

“You are Luc’s man?” They both turned to see a hardened man coming up to both of them, scanning the market as he spoke.

“I’m my own fucking man,” Sean said. “Luc and I just happen to have the same hobby.”

“Then you are who I’m looking for,” the man said. “The Spanish ambassador is already at a party for his arrival, at the _Place des Vosges_. The rooftops will be the best place to fire from, and one of our men has secured a rifle for you to use at an abandoned chemical factory nearby.” The man slipped Sean a note, and nodded before he walked off.

Sean and May glanced at the paper, seeing a pair of addresses scribbled on it and a picture of the ambassador. Sean nodded, pocketing the paper before walking off.

“So, I can’t help but notice that you’re the youngest of the lot,” Sean said, glancing toward May. “No one in America had a problem sending you here”

“I suppose I do look younger than most would expect,” May said, not reacting. “Our leaders don’t doubt me though, and they trust Havoc to get us all home alive and safe.”

“Suppose you’re older than you look then,” Sean said, shrugging. “Seen many a lad take up the fight, but not many girls your age. Would’ve thought the Americans could find better forces than you.”

“They can,” May said, confident she knew enough about the US by this point to answer honestly. “Which should tell you that I was good enough to send here.”

Sean laughed and said, “At least you’ve got some confidence.” May expected to keep walking, until Sean noticed a car parked on the side of the street. Glancing about, he grinned and jumped in the driver’s seat. “Well, are you gonna get in? Or do you plan on a good stretch of the legs?”

The drive was fast, May thankful she wouldn’t have to worry about sore feet as Sean drove through the city. As Sean pulled off the street onto a dirt track, May checked to see there was no one following them or that they were going somewhere they weren’t supposed to be. “So that blonde boy with you,” Sean said. “Tell me, is he not used to this?”

“Oh, Alphonse,” May said, looking down at the floor of the car. “It’s not that he isn’t used to facing death or struggle. He’s always been against killing though, if he had his choice he wouldn’t have anyone die while we’re here.”

“Bloody optimist,” Sean grumbled. “What did he think would happen when he came here? I’ve seen boys half his age in Ireland willing to fight the Brits, and he thought he could go up against fascists and not have to kill?”

“You can’t deny it’s admirable,” May said, looking over at Sean. “I’m sure you don’t like killing anyone either.”

“Maybe not,” Sean said, pulling the car up to a building with a shattered wall and broken windows. “I’m not gonna pretend it doesn’t need to happen either.”

Following Sean out of the car, May scanned the compound. The main building looked like it had been a warehouse or factory, a larger building that had since fallen to disrepair. There was a smaller building off to the side, a man standing in the doors and staring at them. “Must be our man,” Sean said, throwing his cigarette to the ground.

The man nodded to the pair as they came close. “You are the assassins?”

“Only if you don't like Nazis,” Sean said, staring back at the man. “I’m told you have something for me?”

The Legionnaire nodded inside the outbuilding. “She’s over there, my own rifle. Deadly as a scorpion, her sting can stop a man’s heart at over 500 meters.”

Sean chuckled and walked inside, saying, “Sounds like me ex-girlfriend.”

May followed, seeing a rifle laying on the table. Sean walked over, picked it up, and worked the bolt. He shouldered it, turning toward the other end of the outbuilding and staring through the scope. May thought he looked like Capt. Hawkeye, checking the rifle like it was a tool he’d used for years. “Bloody gorgeous,” he said, lowering the rifle. “Are you expecting this back?”

“I will understand if you can’t,” the Legionnaire said, nodding. “All I ask is that you make sure those pigs pay for invading France.”Sean nodded, poking his head out the door to make sure the coast was clear before moving to the car.

It was another short drive to their target location, May marveling at the sprawling _Place des Vosges_. Sean circled around it, the building a massive square block taking up an entire section of the neighborhood. It rivaled the size of the Chang Clan’s holding in the Xingese capital, though it did pale in comparison of the holdings of the larger clans. There were also squads of soldiers around it, armed Nazis watching for any threat.

“No chance of getting in the ground floor,” Sean said, turning another corner. Looking up, he grinned and pulled across the street from the building. “Follow me, there’s another way inside.”

May followed Sean through to the apartments across the street, the Irishman leading the way through the buildings to the roof. She watched as Sean took his coat off and threw it over a power line running across the street. Smiling, she tore part of her sleeves off and joined Sean on the rooftop ten seconds later. Sean was already setting up his position, staring down the sights as he chambered a round. The party was a typical gathering of the rich and influential of the region. Powerful men in uniforms and fine suits circled around each other, taking part in fine food and drink. Their women, in expensive silk dressed, hanging on the arms of their men or huddled close to each other gossiping about the ones that weren't in their small cliques. She could smell the distant scents of the food laid out below, a far cry from the sight of the market by St. Eustache's. That was when May noticed he looked unsure. “Is something wrong?”

Sean blinked, pulling back from the scope. “Bollocks, this bastard has a double.” He peered through the scope again. “Make it a triple, it’s a fucking convention down there!”

May peered over the edge of the roof and scanned the crowd. She couldn’t tell through the crowd who the ambassador was, not at this distance, but she could notice body language. She saw the female guests laughing and socializing with each other, the male guests taking part in whatever drinking they could. “Do you see anyone who looks important?”

“Aye, that bastard Eckhardt,” Sean said, looking through the scope. “He’s talking with one of them at the fountain in the center, but there’s another talking with…” Sean’s voice trailed off, like he was seeing a ghost. “Dierker.”

It was the venom in Sean’s voice that made May act. She grabbed the rifle of the barrel and said, “No, don’t,” she hissed. “I don’t know what that man did to you, but that isn’t our mission. We’re here to stop the Spanish from allying with the Nazis.”

“You don’t know what he did,” Sean growled. “If you’d see what that bastard did to Jules, you’d let me pull the trigger.”

“I know that in my home, sometimes you cannot kill more than you need to,” May said, fighting Sean to keep the barrel down. “Tell me where the ambassador is, and I’ll tell you which one is real.”

Sean didn’t answer at first, then raised the rifle away from where he’d had it. “One’s talking to Eckhardt, near the center of the square in the fountain. The one talking to Dierker is over by the food tables on the right. There’s another, talking to some Gestapo fucker far to the left.”

May scanned the three. The one talking to the “Gestapo fuck” was stiff, eyes locked on the official. The one talking to Dierker kept scanning the crowd, speaking but not focusing on the conversation. The only one who truly looked like they were at a party was the one in the center. “The one talking to Gen. Eckhardt,” May said.

“Are you sure,” Sean whispered, sighting the target. “One wrong move and this could go real bad.”

“I’m used to dealing with body doubles,” May said, thinking back to when she was younger. “Trust me, I know which one you need to target."

* * *

“I am impressed with Germany’s actions since their occupation began,” the Spanish ambassador said, nodding to Eckhardt. “Our forces that volunteered to fight alongside the Wehrmacht against the communists have spoken with great pride of fighting alongside your forces.”

“And Germany is grateful,” Eckhardt said, nodding to the man. “However, our forces are still fighting against those who would see both our nations laid low by the threat of these dark forces that still seek to collapse the civilization we hold dear.”

“Yes, the Fuhrer has made it clear that Marxism must be stamped out where it is found,” the ambassador said. “The presence of our enemies in the forces of the Free French and Red Army has troubled Gen. Franco. Unfortunately he faces opposition within the military, generals who feel that Spain is better served in neutrality.”

“Is it?” Eckhardt gestured to the building around them. “The so-called United Nations have all fallen beneath the assaults of the Tripartite Pact or are realizing that they cannot stand before our efforts. The Americans fumble in the Pacific and North Africa, our u-boats dog the Royal Navy, and the forces of the Wehrmacht continue to push the Russians deeper into their interior. Your soldiers witness this daily on the Eastern Front, sir. Imagine what the Spanish military could do should they formally ally with us? The Mediterranean would be controlled by Spain, and Spain would decide the right to sail into these waters. That alone is worth at least the consideration.”

“I cannot argue that,” the ambassador said, sipping some French cognac. “We would need assurances, however. Italy may want North Africa, but they must understand that we will seize the remnants of the French territories.”

“I’m sure there can be effective negotiations for the territory post-war,” Eckhardt said. The Spanish and Italians could argue over the African sands all they wanted, the Reich would still control continental Europe. “Of course, this requires a formal alliance with Spain.”

The ambassador paused, sipping at his drink as he thought over the proposal. “Your assistance was vital to the victory in the civil war. Perhaps there is a compelling argument to make for an alliance.”

Eckhardt smiled, holding out his hand to the ambassador. The Spaniard nodded, shaking with Eckhardt. Then the Spaniard’s head burst open, spraying Eckhardt’s uniform with blood and leaving him shaking hands with a corpse. The women in the courtyard screamed out and panicked, the officers in the courtyard screaming out dozens of orders at once that sent the guards in a dozen directions at once and without any effect. Eckhardt was still standing there with the smile on his face, blood covering his ribbons and Iron Cross. Farther out, Dierker smiled at the misfortune of his commander and finished his schnaps. Or he tried to, until a guard shoved into him and showered his uniform with the drink.

As May and Sean climbed back to the apartments over the electrical cable, May glanced back at the courtyard. The crowd was emptying, panicking as they rushed for the exits. “ _I don’t know why they’re screaming,_ ” she thought. “ _Even if it was bloody, only one person died._ ”


	12. Chapter 11 - Just Wars

**Chapter 11 - Just War**

* * *

Havoc and Korra waited at the MALPs, Havoc checking his watch. “Another week,” he sighed, glaring at the terrible cigarettes. “Hope you didn’t leave your oven running.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll get a hot welcome back regardless,” Korra said. “Tenzin and Beifong are gonna flip after we’ve been gone for so long.”

“Well, that’s their fault for needing you to apparently solve all their problems,” Havoc said, grabbing a fresh terrible Nazi cigarette. “I mean sometimes it sounds like Beifong’s department can’t even stop a pickpocket.”

Korra grinned at the image in her head. “I dare you to tell her that.”

“Tempting,” Havoc said, taking a drag. “Seriously though, they do understand that they can solve problems without you, right? You can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Yeah, they get that,” Korra said, rolling her eyes. “Plus, you’re being a little harsh on them. Tenzin and the airbenders were the ones who helped try to stabilize the Earth Confederation when I was recovering from what Zaheer did to me. It wasn’t their fault that things were crazier than they expected.”

“Fair point,” Havoc said, shrugging. “What about things here? You think Bolin’s gonna be okay?”

“You mean him treating the Nazis like spider-flies to stomp on?” Korra looked away. “Look, Bolin can be a little easy to work up if something’s personal for him. That doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to do the right thing.”

“Being easy to work up is one thing, he’s treating this like the Nazis were the ones who killed his parents,” Havoc said, tapping off some ash. “If I have to keep him away from any further action because he’s threatening our operations? I will.”

“I understand, but he’s still willing to fight against them,” Korra said. “Shouldn’t we be more worried about Al? He’s the one who isn’t really able to understand that the Nazis are a threat that would kill all of us.”

“Guess we’re looking at two different directions on this one,” Havoc said. “Okay, I’ll make sure Al understand that we need to handle the Nazis until we can go home. You’ve gotta keep an eye on Bolin and make sure he stays level. Deal?”

Korra shook Havoc’s hand. “Deal.”

It was another five minutes before the portal opened, the second MALP’s camera focusing on the pair. “Sir,” Havoc said, stepping in front of the camera. “Any progress?”

A note was tossed through the portal. Picking it up, Havoc read, “Maj. Carter is working on a means to stabilize a field around the portal, using techniques…” Havoc sighed, crumpling up the techno-babble. “Okay, Maj. Carter’s working on it. How much longer until we can make a try to get out of here?”

Another note came through, Havoc reading, “Two weeks? Alright, but that’s a long time to wait right now sir. We struck a big blow against the Nazis, but if Bolin’s research is right they’ll counter hard sooner than later. We’re trying to get the British intelligence services to contact the Resistance, but we haven’t had much luck.” Another few seconds, another note. “Try taking out higher ranking Gestapo agents,” Havoc read. “Okay, but they’re deeper in the city and that’s a pretty protected area. Any more explosives or weapons?”

Three wood cases slid out of the portal. Havoc grinned, picking up the crowbar sitting atop one of them. Cracking it open, he reached inside the straw and smiled at the camera. “Sir, if I could I’d marry you right now.”

A final note flew out of the portal before it closed. Havoc laughed as he read out, “You aren’t in my league.” Crushing the note, Havoc’s smiled vanished when he shouted out, “Dammit I forgot to ask for cigarettes!”

* * *

Securing the crates in La Villette, Havoc saw Luc waiting out front in a car. “I have news,” he said, motioning for Havoc to get in. “Fr. Denis has contacted us, something vital he wishes to relay. Come, I will drive us to the cathedral.”

Havoc nodded, turning to Breda as he got in the car. “Keep those crates to ourselves for now, little support from back home.” Havoc winked and shut the door, Luc rolling through the streets to Sacré-Cœur. Parking the car out front, the two were met by a nun. She bowed her head to the pair and motioned for them to follow her.

“Fr. Denis is in the sacristy,” she said, dipping her hands into a small bowl of water next to the doors. She turned her head and smiled at Havoc. “I would like to thank you, for the other day monsieur. I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t stopped that Nazi officer.”

“Wasn’t a problem,” Havoc said, noticing Luc make the same gesture as he walked inside. “The Nazis haven’t been giving you any trouble, have they?”

“ _Non_ , not since the Resistance drove them away,” the nun answered, smiling as she led the pair through the pews to the back of the church. “I hope I do not speak out of turn by saying this, but should you ever need a hideout from them, you are welcome to take sanctuary here.”

“We are thankful, sister,” Luc said, following her to the sacristy.

Fr. Denis rose from the desk in the room, smiling genially at the pair. “Welcome my sons,” he said, moving to shake their hands. “You all saved many lives by killing that informant,” Fr. Denis said. “My flock is grateful for your help. Perhaps God has ordained this work you do.”

“I’m more worried about trying to deal with men,” Havoc said.

“Quite,” Fr. Denis said. “In the meantime, I have a vital piece of information for you both. I had a chance to speak with the Gestapo officer who recruited our informant. He wishes to meet with me.”

“You what?” Luc slammed his hands on Fr. Denis’ desk. “Father, in the name of God why?”

“I told him I had information about certain ‘undesirables’ in my congregation,” Fr. Denis said, his tone conspiratorial. "A list of names and hiding places I offered to bring to his office.”

“But they’re our enemies,” Havoc said, nodding. “You’re gonna have them do our work for us.” Luc and Fr. Denis stared at Havoc for a second. “Is that not what you were thinking?”

“Not quite,” Fr. Denis said, sighing. “I have something else for the fascists in mind.”

“Ah,” Luc said, face lightening. “Would this be the kind of parcel that is hazardous to the recipient?”

“Indeed it is,” Fr. Denis said. “I need a driver, someone who can take me to the Gestapo headquarters and back without getting both of us killed. Someone not afraid to face the Nazis on their own terms.”

“I think we have someone who fits that bill,” Havoc said, nodding to the priest. “I’ll tell them to be ready by when?”

“As soon as possible my son,” the priest said. “The sooner this monster is dead, the better for all Paris.”

“Then you will need a fast car to escape,” Luc said, turning for the door. “Our driver will meet you at the front of the cathedral tomorrow.”

“God go with you my sons,” Fr. Denis said, blessing them both as they walked out.

“What do you think,” Luc said, stepping back into the church with Havoc. “Will Asami be capable of carrying this out?”

“She’s the best driver we’ve got,” Havoc said. “All we need is a car and we should be set.”

“I will see about securing the car,” Luc said, blessing himself with the water again as they left the church.

“So,” Havoc asked. “You don't mind Sean not taking care of this?”

“He is only one man,” Luc said, cocking an eyebrow at Havoc. “You would have me force him do all our work?”

* * *

The next day was cloudy, Asami walking from La Villette to the old rusting car waiting in the courtyard. Korra walked with her, a nervous look in her eyes. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’ll have to be,” Asami said, flipping her hair as she got in the car. “It’s just driving Fr. Denis from his temple to the offices. I drop him off, we drive away, the Nazis won’t even know what happened.”

Korra nodded, leaning in the window and putting her forehead to Asami’s. “You come back, alright?”

“I promise,” Asami said, pulling Korra down to give her a peck on the cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Korra said, taking a long breath as she stood back up. “Go get’em.”

Asami gave one last smile before she set off through the city. She had the directions to the cathedral written down on a note from Havoc. Getting there wasn’t the hard part though, not with the Nazis too afraid to make any actions in the area. Even if the skies were dim, the people were still glad to be about. They had seen that the Nazis weren’t invincible, that gave them a reason to hope. It made Asami think of when the Equalists had taken over, of how it felt that the entire city could be under the fist of an occupier. Any chink in the armor was a sign that the foe wasn’t invincible, and that hope still lived.

She saw Fr. Denis waiting at the front gates of the church, nodding to her as he got in. “Good morning, my dear. Are you taking me to the driver?”

“Actually, I’m the driver sir,” Asami said. “You only need to tell me where we’re going.”

“You?” Fr. Denis hesitated as he grabbed the door handle. “You understand what is about to happen, my dear?”

“Sir, I’m working under the US government to fight the Nazis,” Asami said. “If you don’t want my help, then I can leave you here to get to the office on your own.”

“No, of course,” Fr. Denis said, nodding to Asami as he got in the car. “Forgive me, I have always felt that matters as these were best left far away from a woman’s life.”

“Yeah, well given that there’s so few of us?” Asami put the car in gear and started rolling again. “You might have to make some allowances.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Fr. Denis said, keeping his bag close. “I do not know of many priests willing to do what I am about to.”

“Neither do I,” Asami said, trying to picture Tenzin about to do something like this. “Why did the Gestapo trust you, anyway? They have to know you were there when their informant was killed.”

“The Gestapo think I am a joke,” Fr. Denis said, staring out the side of the car. “They think I am an old drunk priest, selling secrets for liquor money. I doubt they will even search my bag.”

“These people are idiots,” Asami said, slowing at an intersection.

“They are,” Fr. Denis said, his voice heavy as she drove through. “I only hope God can forgive me for what must be done.”

“Are you sure you want to do this then,” Asami asked. “This is pretty dangerous for a man like you.”

“It must be done,” Fr. Denis said, clutching the small gold cross on his chest. “Though it certainly is not what St. Thomas Aquinas had in mind when he wrote about Just War.”

“Just War?” Asami glanced at the priest as she drove through Montmartre. “How can he think war is just?”

“You are not Catholic I take it,” Fr. Denis said, shaking his head. “One of the great doctors of the Church, St. Thomas Aquinas, came from a time of war. In his writings, he came to the conclusion that some conflicts can be considered just. He studied the works of the great Greek philosophers, then the teachings of the Church, and applied it to the wars of his era.”

“I guess when he was around there were a lot of wars,” Asami said.

“Near-constant,” Fr. Denis said, gripping his bag tight as they drove past a Nazi patrol car. “He pondered these struggles deeply, trying to understand how Christian men could wage such brutal conflicts. In time, he recognized that while Christians must attempt to live in the message of Christ, there are times when they must also take up arms in defense.”

“Well, I mean this is all interesting,” Asami said, glancing at the priest. “But why are you telling me this?”

“Perhaps I am trying to comfort my own heart,” Fr. Denis said, sounding crestfallen. “To be a priest is to hear the struggles of others, but with few ways to open one’s heart to another.”

“That I can understand,” Asami said, thinking back to when she had no one to talk to about her company nearly going under. “Alright, so what’d he say made a just war?”

“He said there must be three criteria,” Fr. Denis said, holding up three fingers. “First, it was be a war waged by a lawful authority, from a sovereign or government. It must have a just cause, for us the repulsion of the invading armies. Finally, it must be fought to promote the ideals of good over evil, to restore peace once you are sure the fighting is past.”

“I get the second one,” Asami said. “What about the first and third points? No one in the Resistance is fighting under a nation, and we’re not exactly fighting with good means. It feels a little hollow to say this is just.”

“That is why I have been thinking on it,” Fr. Denis said, pointing right. “Turn here. It is true, we do not fight under a national authority. Yet we still fight for our nation, knowing that our brothers and sons still fight in Africa. France has surrendered, but the fighting spirit of her people has not yet died. As for the methods we must use?” Fr. Denis paused, shutting his eyes. “Christ did not take defilement of the sacred with quiet contemplation. When he found his Father’s temple turned into a seat of moneylenders, he set on them with fury and drove them away. As we do not have his divinity, nor the resources of a proper army, we must make do.”

“I guess I can’t see how there can be any just wars,” Asami said, rolling past an armored car at a plaza. “In my home, all the wars there have been never were just in that context. They’re always waged by conquerors and tyrants, trying to take everything they can because they can.”

“Then what about the nations who fought to resist them?” Fr. Denis glared as they drove past a pair of Nazi soldiers accosting one of the men on the street. “Are you saying their war was not just? That those who fought these tyrants were not justified in standing against them?”

“It’s not that,” Asami said. “I mean yeah, they were right to keep fighting. I guess I have trouble with the idea that someone could try and justify war at all.”

“Many do ask how men of God can speak that war is justified,” Fr. Denis said. “In the past, the Church has allowed some wars to proceed long before they should have been considered unjust. It is the same in all parts of the world.”

“ _Not just this one,_ ” Asami thought.

“Still, we cannot ignore the world in front of us,” Fr. Denis said. “Do not think that because I fight that I wish this war to continue. I have seen how the Nazis act toward those under their charge. If a just war is one that seeks to stop evil, then we are involved in one like no other.”

“Maybe we are,” Asami whispered, pulling up to the target’s office.

They pulled up to an archway, bedecked in banners bearing the swastika. A guard out front motioned for the car to stop as Fr. Denis rolled down the window. “Your business?”

“I am here to deliver information to your commander,” Fr. Denis said. “He is expecting me.”

The soldier sneered, pulling back from the window. “I think you had better say a few Hail Mary’s, priest. Go inside.”

“ _Merci,_ ” Fr. Denis said, bowing his head as the car rolled into the courtyard. Asami pulled up to the target building, Fr. Denis adjusting his bag. “Be at peace my child,” he said, opening the door. “God will provide for us. And be ready to drive away as soon as I return.”

Asami nodded, glancing about the courtyard trying not to seem conspicuous. Nazi soldiers were clustered about, smoking and laughing and acting like nothing was wrong. They looked like cops in Republic City, waiting in the station between patrols or for a call to come in. They looked human, no less than she or Korra did. Which made it all the more terrifying when she realized how much Bolin hated them. She hadn’t had a chance to read the files that had come back, she’d been busy with some work in Future Industries. All Korra had said about the files was that they were, “Worse than anything Sozin had done.”

That didn’t change the fact that Asami was in the middle of one of their headquarters right now. The soldiers were all armed, some glancing over and talking to each other about the intruder in their midst. Asami kept herself calm, not looking around too much or –

“ _Ey!_ ”

Asami froze, turning her head enough to see one of the soldiers walking up to her. She turned her head away, but she saw the look on the man’s face. He was grinning, swaggering toward her with his rifle over his shoulder.

“ _Hallo Hübschehe,_ ” the soldier said, leaning on the window. “ _Was machst du mit dem Priester?_ ”

Asami kept her eyes down, doing her best to not acknowledge the Nazi was even there. He kept smiling and knocked on the window. “ _Hallo? Ich weiß, dass du mich sehen kannst._ ”

Asami didn’t look up, she kept her hands on the wheel and eyes on the dash. The Nazi knocked on the glass again, starting to look confused. “ _Warum antwortest du mir nicht? Ich weiß, dass du mich hörst._ ”

Asami felt her grip tightening on the wheel. “ _Keep calm, Fr. Denis should be back soon._ ” She remained stoic, ignoring the Nazi even as he started to bang on the window. “ _I just wish he would hurry up. How long does it take to do something like this?_ ”

The Nazi’s face shifted, going from annoyed to angry. He slammed his hand atop the car, starting to shout at Asami now. “ _Was ist los mit deiner schlampe? Mach das fenster auf, verdammt!_ ” Asami didn’t shut her eyes, despite the strong temptation to. She kept herself focused by remembering that the second Fr. Denis came back out she was gone. Even when the soldier started pulling on the door handle.

A voice called out, and seconds later Fr. Denis was in the car. “Go, now.” Asami didn’t wait, putting the car in gear and pulling out of the courtyard. Fr. Denis blessed himself, letting out a long exhale. “We have ten minutes,” he said, wiping his forehead of sweat. “We should -- ”

A blast ripped through the offices.

“What the hell,” Asami shouted, shifting gears and slamming down on the pedal. “I thought we had time!”

“We did,” Fr. Denis shouted. “I told them to set the bomb for ten minutes!”

Asami peeled down the street, dodging cars and the occasional pedestrian. “More like ten seconds! Hang on, I’ll get us back!”

That was when Asami heard the sirens behind her. Glancing in the rearview, she saw a pair of Nazi patrol cars pursuing them. “Damn! Hang on, I’ll try to shake’em.” Shifting gears again, Asami turned away from La Villette into the city. Ignoring the sirens behind her, she saw a chance. The street up ahead was dug out, but there was a metal plate set above some pipes. “Hang on,” Asami shouted, gunning the engine. Her car flew over the roadwork, Asami’s hair flying up as Fr. Denis prayed at a rate of seven Hail Mary’s a minute. The Nazi patrol cars behind them weren’t as skilled. The first car tried to make the jump, but military vehicles weren’t made for stunts and landed front-first into the ruined street. The second tried to stop, but Newton’s Laws will always take their pound of flesh. The driver tried to turn to avoid the ramp, and wound up flipping the car.

Asami started to smile, until she heard a familiar roar behind her. The Nazis had motorcycles. There were three behind the car, and Asami knew she couldn’t outrun them.

Time to get clever.

Coming up on an intersection, she cut the car hard left then right, tires squealing as she went 180 in the street before gunning the engine. The motorcycles scattered, but one wasn’t paying attention. Asami saw as the driver and passenger in the sidecar slammed into the front of a bakery, burying themselves in fresh bread.

Fr. Denis had moved on to the Lord’s Prayer as Asami kept speeding through Paris. She tore down the boulevards, Nazi soldiers taking potshots at them as they dodged the pursuing motorcycles. Spotting another chance, Asami dropped her speed enough that one of the bikes was next to the car. She glanced right, grinning at the scowling Nazi next to Fr. Denis. Then she veered right, forcing the soldier away. That was when he disappeared into a newsstand.

“My dear,” Fr. Denis said, gripping the dashboard with white knuckles. “I know one day I will meet my Father, but I’d prefer if it wasn’t _this_ day!”

“Sorry, figured getting away from the Nazis was the more important thing,” Asami said, glancing at the rearview. One more motorcycle was left, pursuing Asami toward another plaza. Asami saw it was ringed with statues around a central fountain, and she smiled. “One more to go, keep praying!” Fr. Denis nodded, starting on about someone called “Jesus” forgiving his sins.

Asami turned hard at the plaza, circling the statues as the motorcycled pursued her. The bike and sidecar were tighter on the corners, exactly what Asami was hoping for. The bike started to close, Asami managing to see the eyes of the soldiers through their goggles. That was when she cut the wheel and yanked the parking break. The bike slammed into the front of the car, the Nazis screaming as they cleared the hood and flew toward a statue of a naked woman. One of the Nazis slammed face first into the statue’s bust, the other into the open palm. Satisfied that neither one was going to try and follow, Asami pulled away from the plaza, ignoring the distant sound of more sirens in the distance.

“That was quite the skill you displayed behind the wheel,” Fr. Denis gasped, clutching his cross. “I think, however, we have done enough of the Lord’s work this day.”

“Fair enough,” Asami said, slowing down as the sirens started to come from the opposite direction. Parking the car, she motioned for Fr. Denis to duck down as she killed the engine. A trio of Nazi cars and a heavy truck rolled by seconds later, Asami noticing that none of them paid any attention to them in the car. Waiting a few more seconds, Asami smiled as she sat but up. “Alright, we should be safe to be you back.” Turning the key, Asami’s smile was stuck as the car failed to turn over.

“It seems the Lord can only give us so many small miracles,” Fr. Denis said, chuckling as he got out of the car. “Come, let us return to La Villette.”

Asami sighed, stepping out of the car. She was fine with the fact they’d have to walk back.

Until it started raining. “Seriously!?”

* * *

“Another bombing?” Eckhardt glared at the phone for a second. “How many this time?”

“ _Ten, mein general,_ ” the officer on the other end of the phone said. “ _Including the Gestapo office charged with handling the city’s informants._ ”

Eckhardt gripped the phone, doing his best to not throw it through a window. “I see. And in the subsequent chase?”

The officer paused, then mumbled, “ _Fourteen men, general._ ”

“Fourteen,” Eckhardt repeated, sighing. “Tell the commanders of the patrols that unless they wish to be sent to clean up after the horses on the _Ostfront_ , they’d better start finding these terrorists!” Slamming the phone down, Eckhardt rose from his desk and went to the window.

He’d followed Rommel into France in 1940, the brilliant campaign through the “impassable” Ardennes that had shown the Allies that the Third Reich was to be treated with respect. He’d thought being given the occupation of Paris had been an honor, a means to turn the newly captured territories of the Reich into a pinnacle of efficiency and industry. Instead he found workers unwilling to work, a government in shambles, and no support from Berlin as the Fuhrer’s attention drifted elsewhere. Of course, he had expected some resistance to the presence of his forces in Paris. He hadn’t expected that they would be this hostile though. In his mind, a defeat was the sign that the people should accept their new fate.

“ _Dierker will seize on this,_ ” he thought, staring out at the Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triumph. “ _He’s already called to his superiors, there won’t be any doubt._ ” Eckhardt shook his head. If it wasn’t for him and his motorworks, Dierker would still be another pretty boy on the racing circuit desperate to make his name. They’d only met through the party in 1935, DIerker a loyal SA stormtrooper and Eckhardt a major backer of the Nazis in Saarbrücken. Then Dierker had gone to the SS before the Night of Long Knives, and turned into the strutting, Hugo Boss-bedecked popinjay he was now. Not that Eckhardt had any pain at the fortunes of the SA. The deviant Rohm had practically begged for his fate when it was clear where his sick appetites lay.

Dierker, he was an animal. He had no concept of what the Nazis would do for the world once the war had been won. No, Dierker only saw his own personal glories under the guise of “Aryan supremacy”. It was all well and good to keep the proper families in power, of course, but that would not promise supremacy. The British had their nobles still, and all it had gained them was loss after humiliating loss in Europe and Africa. No, it would be industry that promised victory in the war. The industry Eckhardt could promise. Let Krupp and Porsche and the rest promise Hitler mad _wunderwaffe_. Eckhardt would see that it would be tank after tank, bullet after bullet, that won the war. One France’s factories were fully operational, the Reich would sweep over the Bolshevik rats in a great iron tide.

The phone rang again, Eckhardt sighing as his contemplation was interrupted. “Gen. Eckhardt…Yes…Yes, I see…They agreed?...No, this is still manageable. Yes, I expect you tonight, my chateau…Yes, bring something revealing.” Hanging up, Eckhardt went back behind his desk and pulled out some files. That was when his phone rang again.

“Hello?...Ah, _mein schatz! Wie geht es unseren kindern?_ ”


	13. Chapter 12 - Downtime

**Chapter 12 - Downtime**

* * *

Sean laughed, hearing Asami retell the chase through the city. “Bollocks, they tried to make the jump behind you?”

“Swear on my family’s ancestors,” Asami said, sipping at a glass of beer at the bar with Sean. The teams were split that morning, some in the Belle and others in La Villette waiting for word from Havoc or Luc. “What insulted me was the way they handled the motorcycles. If they’re gonna put their people on them, they should at least know what they’re doing.”

“Aye, makes it the sadder they managed what they have so far,” Sean said, throwing back a shot. “Bloody bastards are in Africa and Russia, don’t know how they’re doing it.”

“They won’t for long,” Bolin said, a grim smile on his face. “Russia moved its factories to the east, and the North Africa campaign lost vital resources because of the Eastern Front. By 1944, the Nazis will be on a desperate defense.”

Sean chuckled raising his glass as soon as Mssr. Rousseau refilled it. “I’ll bloody drink to that.”

“Bolin,” Asami whispered, leaning over to Bolin. “This is all happening, remember? This isn’t the past for them, it’s the present.”

“Right, sorry,” Bolin groaned, taking a seat next to Asami. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, we’ve noticed,” Asami said. “Do you need to talk to someone Bolin?”

“Maybe,” Bolin sighed. “Maybe Col. Mackenzie can help?”

“I’m still talking to him when I need to,” Asami said, smiling as she gripped Bolin’s shoulder. “He might be able to help you too. If you ask for it.”

“Maybe I should,” Bolin said, nodding to Mssr. Rousseau the older man set a glass down in front of him. “I know Reinhardt told me that I’m not a Nazi, it’s just something else to see them for real, you know?”

“I don’t think I can,” Asami said, taking another sip of the terrible beer. “Ugh, I can’t wait to get back home and have some Cactus Cola.”

“I know,” Bolin sighed. “At least we know they don’t put any extra sugar in the food here.”

“Hey,” Breda said, joining them at the bar. “Luc’s said we should take it easy for a few nights, the Nazis are probably on high alert right now, better to wait until they start to ease off and make mistakes.”

“Fine with me,” Sean said, grinning as he rose from the bar. “I’ll go in the back, see if the girls need any company.”

Leaving Sean to his business, Breda turned to Asami and Bolin. “Havoc gave us an update, we should have progress on getting back in about a week.”

“Spirits, yes,” Asami sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed again.” She noticed Bolin was silent though, when she’d normally expect him to at least emote. “What’s wrong?”

“We aren’t gonna leave too soon, right?” Bolin turned to look at the two with a worried glance. “They’re still starting this resistance. If we leave too early, we’ll abandon them.”

“You said it yourself though,” Breda said. “The Nazis are idiots, they extended their war to two fronts at once. Sapped of the ability to do anything meaningful on either, they’ll start to falter and collapse. We don’t need to stay here and beat them, especially when we can’t recall to the SGC if things start going south.”

“We can’t abandon them though,” Bolin argued. “The Nazis will be defeated, but we can’t abandon these people. If we do then more will die than we can help.”

“People are dying anyway,” Breda argued. “It’s cost-benefit Bolin. Us staying here carries a higher risk than us going home as soon as we’re able. Luc’s thinking about things as the leader of his group, he’s got Sean to do the legwork, and he’s got a good network set up for support. All we are is a force multiplier for his actions.”

“Breda’s not wrong Bolin,” Asami said. “I know this is something personal for you, but we need to focus on the main threats. We’ve got Nod out there, the Goa’uld are gonna have their meeting, Fairy Tail doesn’t know what Zeref is gonna pull. Hell, there’s a conspiracy back in Amestris again, we can’t ignore that for a war we already know is gonna be won by the right forces.”

“We can’t abandon them either,” Bolin said. “It’d be like Mustang deciding to flee to Xing instead of staying for the fight against Father.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that,” Breda said, eyes narrowing. “We know the Nazis are gonna lose this fight. The chief stayed because he didn’t know how things were gonna go down. We’re only helping the resistance because of the fact that it also keeps us safe while we wait to get out of here. It isn’t a question of right or wrong anymore, it’s about getting back to go back to the SGC and back to work.”

Asami saw Bolin’s eyes almost collapse in despair. “Hang on,” Asami said. “We can at least ask the SGC whether or not this is something we can continue helping with, right? Gen. Hammond already sent us additional explosives and weapons, if he didn’t want us helping the Resistance he’d have told us to stay quiet and not act.”

“Maybe, but he’s cognizant of the fact that if we weren’t doing anything he’d have us going stir crazy.” Breda tapped on the bar and nodded to Mssr. Rousseau. “If he says we’re leaving, we’re leaving, got it?” Bolin nodded, that crestfallen expression still clear on his face.

Upstairs, May sat at one of the tables with Al. She thought for a second, then turned and asked, “Are assassinations not usually carried out in public?”

Al spat out his drink, hacking a few times before he looked to May and said, “N-No! What made you ask that?”

“When Sean killed the ambassador,” May said, staring ahead in thought. “I noticed the guests started panicking and screaming when it happened.”

Al shook his head, looking like he was trying to comprehend what he was hearing. “No, no people don’t normally get assassinated at parties, at least in Amestris.”

“Oh, I see,” May said, like she had learned that Amestrian food wasn’t prepared the same way as in Xing. “That must be why so many of them started running. At least Sean knew what to expect.”

Al nodded, then said, “May, have you seen things like this before?”

“More than once,” May said, in the same tone people would use when remembering a family tragedy. “It isn’t that surprising, the Chang Clan has many enemies who hope to see us destroyed. Once I saw one of our family retainers killed during my mother’s birthday celebration. He’d snuck some of the desert before anyone else could, lucky for us I suppose. Otherwise no one would have known about the poison.”

“Poison?!”

“It was alright though,” May said, shaking her head. “We found the person responsible. One of the kitchen staff had been paid to put the poison into the desert, and he was given an appropriate punishment for what he did.” May sighed, looking forlorn. “I do miss him though. He didn’t deserve that.”

Al deflated in his seat, an amazing accomplishment when he considered everything he’d been through the past few weeks. “Is this really so normal in Xing?”

“Our clan leaders say it shouldn’t be,” May said, her voice dropping a little. “No one takes them seriously though. They’ll say we should stop the violence one minute then organize a strike on another clan the next.”

“No wonder you and Ling were so anxious to get your hands on the Philosopher’s Stone,” Al said. “Living like that must be a nightmare.”

“But the homunculi ruled your nation in the shadows,” May said. “Isn’t it more strange that they didn’t act in the open when they thought they had control?” Al started to open his mouth, then stared down at the table. May blinked and leaned over, saying, “Alphonse, you’ve never killed anyone before this?” Al shook his head. “Even after everything you’ve been through?”

“Never,” Al whispered, covering his eyes. “I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t be a part of this, May. I shouldn’t have to kill people like this.”

“Wait, what about Zafiah?” May leaned across the table. “You didn’t like what happened to him, but you still gave him rest.”

“That was different,” Al argued. “Zafiah was dead, you saw his body. Destroying those machines was making sure he could rest in peace.”

“And you killed those Nazis so Luc could kill a man that you know had done something horrific,” May pointed out. “If you hadn’t, you would both be dead. What did you think you would have to do without your alchemy? You’ll associate with people who kill, but you think that you’re immune from having to do it?”

“Teacher taught us that alchemists are of the people,” Al said. “That means all people, no matter what they might have done. Killing them like this goes against everything brother and I believe.”

“Not killing them goes against common sense Alphonse,” May said, softening her voice. “We don’t have our alchemy or alkahestry in this world, and the Nazis are willing and able to kill anyone that stands in their way according to Bolin.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it,” Al pointed out. “So far the only problems we’ve had are Havoc getting wounded, and even then it was only a graze. You think it's necessary to kill these people?”

“I think that we need to acknowledge what is,” May said. “You might want to avoid this fight, but there’s no choice. They’re here, we don’t have our abilities, we have to accept that fighting them is what needs to happen.” Al balled his fists, head falling to his chest. It was a hard thing for May to watch, seeing the alchemist who had come back from literal nothingness faced with cold reality.

“What are you afraid of Alphonse,” May asked, softening her voice. “Do you think you’re some kind of monster?”

“All lives are precious things May,” Al whispered. “Brother and I learned that the hard way when we lost our bodies to the Truth. Killing them like this, like they’re sick dogs to put down? What does that mean? It feels like I betrayed everything brother and I fought for. Like we’re no better than the homunculi.”

“What about Havoc, or Mustang,” May asked. “What about me? Do you think we’re all monsters?”

Al shook his head and mumbled, “No, you’re not!”

“We’ve still killed,” May said, voice quiet but tone as firm as her eyes. “We took human lives, Alphonse. If we’re willing to do that, then why are you here with us? Why did you and Edward fight alongside Gen. Mustang and Capt. Hawkeye against the homunculi? If taking a human life makes someone as bad as the homunculi, then why are you still part of the MVTF with so many killers?”

Al’s eyes opened, but didn’t focus on anything around him. May turned away and said, “I can’t stop you from thinking what you do, Alphonse. All I ask is that you remember who you’re here with when you say things like that.”

As May walked off, Al was left staring at the carpet trying to figure out where his sense of reality had fled to.

* * *

Fuery tinkered with the radio in the basement of La Villette, trying to make sure the receiver assembly was able to function using the antenna extension that run to the top of the slaughterhouse. The signal had been coming in weak, and the problem wasn’t the crystal or the vacuum tubes in the set proper. Granted, the only signals they could pick up were German military transmissions. Still, some of the Resistance could speak German well enough to try and gleam some information.

“Hey.” Fuery turned to see Korra grabbing a chair next to him. “I thought we all had some time off.”

“Oh, we do,” Fuery said, smiling as he focused on the radio. “That’s why I’m taking care of this now. If we wind up coming into contact with other cells deeper in the city, we’ll need to make sure we can contact them and communicate plans. Plus, this way we might be able to listen in on the Nazi's plans.”

“Makes sense,” Korra said, leaning back in the chair. “So…”

“Yeah, I know,” Fuery said, smiling as he checked the wiring. “I learned this lesson in the South against Aerugo. The battlefield is two minutes of terror, and two months of being bored. That’s why I’m glad we can at least have a day or two to recover.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Korra said, staring up at the ceiling.

“I wouldn’t mind going to the United Republic though,” Fuery said, shutting one of his eyes as he checked the connections. “It feels like the only places I go lately are Central and the SGC when I’m not on a mission.”

“I don’t think Gen. Hammond would mind,” Korra said. “He let us go to O’Neill’s house for a BBQ, and he brought Applejack along for that horse ride.”

“Then I’d better find a way to sell Gen. Mustang on the idea,” Fuery chuckled. “It doesn’t feel like I had much of a social life for the past three years anyway.”

“Three years?” Korra blinked. “How’d you go that long without doing anything social?”

“Well, between the conspiracy with the homunculi and then joining the MVTF, things have been more than a little hectic.” Nodding, Fuery grabbed the back of the radio and started screwing it back into place. “It’d be nice to just go and see something new and not have to bring a gun along.”

“No argument there,” Korra said. “So, how come you guys didn’t have any problems in the Belle?”

“What, you mean because the women are all naked?” Fuery blushed a little as he put the radio back against the wall. “Well, most of the time soldiers in Amestris only have three real options for what to do when they have liberty. We can drink in the barracks, we can drink in a bar, or we can drink in a cabaret.”

“Ah,” Korra said, nodding. “So, places like it aren’t anything new?”

“It’s actually one of the better ones I’ve seen,” Fuery said. “When I was in my school for radio operations, my classmates and I would go to the local town for some downtime. The local dance hall was always filled with couples, and they didn’t have much in the way of strong liquor.”

“Wait, hang on,” Korra said, holding up her hands. “Then why not make your own alternatives? Gen. Hammond managed to help set up the diner at the SGC.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t have anyone like Gen. Hammond to fight for us,” Fuery said. “The commander of the school was always about efficiency and skill, his job was to train us and send us to our new units. Besides, it was still fun.”

“Fun?” Korra blinked, trying to parse the statement out. “What about naked women and getting drunk like that is fun?”

“Okay, well, looking back it was stupid,” Fuery said, sighing. “Still, there were times when we went out that I’ll always remember. Like this one time, my friend Harris took a bet that he wouldn’t grab the guitar out of the man’s hand and play for the dancers? He played so well they offered him a job after he was done.”

Korra smiled and asked, “Did he take it?”

“Nah, he was graduating from the school the next week.” Fuery’s smile dimmed as he tuned the radio, remembering the night. “You should’ve seen the faces on the band when he jumped up on stage and snagged the guitar, we were worried we’d have to stop them from beating him up. Then he started playing just as the dancer came out, even the guitar player had to admit Harris was better.” Fuery could remember it all: The smell of cigarettes infused into the walls. The bitter taste of the cheap beer. The terrible dancing from the woman on the small stage that was second to his classmates cheering Harris on.

“Kinda sounds like that time we convinced Bolin to do an interview with the Republic City Standard,” Korra said, grinning. “Course, that didn’t turn out _quite_ as well as your friend.”

Fuery looked up. “He got nervous?”

“He couldn’t stop talking,” Korra chuckled. “The reporter wound up using two notebooks to take down what he said, and even then he couldn’t use half of it because Bolin was rambling about anything and everything _but_ the pro-bending tournament.”

Fuery chuckled, stretching out as he finished with the radio. “Well, that should do it. We should be able to intercept Nazi radio signals whenever we want.”

“Nice job,” Korra said, holding out her fist. Fuery stared at it for a second, Korra laughing as she grabbed Fuery’s fist and showed him how to fistbump. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

“Probably going over the maps,” Fuery said, shrugging. “What about you?”

“No idea,” Korra said, sighing. “Asami’s working on one of the cars Santos brought us at the Belle, she said it hurt just looking at it. Mako and Havoc are walking one of the neighborhoods nearby, trying to find our next targets. I think Bolin’s staying in the Belle right now, Havoc said he’s worried about how he’s been acting.”

“Yeah, I know that mindset,” Fuery said, shaking his head as he went to the map. “Some of the soldiers in the trenches had the same way of dealing with the Aerugans. The more they killed, the more they felt they were doing the right thing.”

Korra grimaced at Fuery’s description as she followed him to the map. “See, that has me more worried.”

“Bolin’s a good guy Korra, but these Nazis? They’re taking a toll on him.” Fuery looked over the map, marking La Villette with a trio of lightning bolts. “I think he needs to sit out a while, otherwise he’ll work himself up and not come back one day.”

“We could use a break after this,” Korra said. “I know I could use some time not doing anything but relaxing in the pool. Especially now that Asami got it heated.”

“Wow, a heated pool?” Fuery’s eyes lit up. “Can I stay at Asami’s place?”

* * *

Falman grunted as he set the trunk down in the bedroom, wiping his forehead as he stood back up. “There you go, all your clothes where you need them.”

“ _Merci_ Falman,” Collette said, wearing a more subdued outfit of a red calf-length dress and dark blue blouse. Though even with such plain clothes, the woman underneath still managed to look like she could drop bloodflow to the brain at twenty yards. “It’s good you were here, getting that up the stairs on my own would have been murder.”

“It’s no problem,” Falman said, adjusting his sleeves. “When I was stationed in the mountains, it was pretty common to be hauling heavy crates and boxes up and down the stairs of the base we were in.”

“How lucky for me,” Collette said, opening up the box. “Your wife must be very lucky, having a strong man like you around.”

“Oh, no,” Falman said, sighing as he walked to the door. “I don’t even have the time to date back home with the work I do.”

“What a shame,” Collette said, smirking up at the gray-haired “American”. “Not even a sweetheart?”

“No, afraid not,” Falman said, staring up at the ceiling. “Most of the time when I get back home I’m too tired to do much more than fall in my bed and go to sleep.”

“What a shame,” Collette said, putting on the most over-exaggerated frown. “It seems such a waste of a decent man to not have a woman around.”

“I’ve never really thought of it that way,” Falman said, shrugging. “It’d be nice but…” Falman’s brain started to turn, then he blushed and jumped out of the room. “Now wait a second, I know I said I’d like a woman in my life but teasing me like that’s not fair!”

“I’m sorry,” Collette said, laughing as she started putting the clothes in her dressed. “Like you, we have to find some small jest where we can with our work. Forcing ourselves out for the Nazis every night, some of the girls can barely take it anymore. We’re used to drunk fools cheering us on, but these dogs? They’re no better than the scum that think their money lets them own our bodies.” She noticed Falman’s confused expression. “You don’t know any whores?”

“Well, not really,” Falman said, looking away. “I mean I’ve been to my share of cabarets, but, well no.”

Collette sighed, but was still trying to smile as she went along. “It’s not as if we chose to do this, you know. Not many women wake up and start their day deciding to fuck strangers for money. The women in the Belle are lucky, you know? Mdme. Rousseau and her husband, they treat us well. They don’t beat us if we don’t have enough money for the week, and her husband never tries to take advantage of us.”

“They’re good people,” Falman said. “Wish we had more of those back home.”

“We could use more of them here,” Collette said, folding up a black skirt. “Almost all of the pimps and madams in the city treat their girls like animals. They couldn’t go to the police for help, never mind going to a Nazi.”

“You’re kidding,” Falman said. “And people let it happen?”

“We’re whores,” Collette said, shrugging. “To them, we’re a quick fuck for a few francs before they go home to their wives.” She noticed Falman glaring at the floor, fists clenched. “Are you angry at them, or at me?”

“What?” Falman blinked. “What are you talking about? You’re a human being, why would I be angry at you?”

“It’s a nice change,” Collette said. “Even Mdme. Rousseau’s daughter, Veronique? Sometimes I notice her glaring at us whenever she visits her parents. Like we’re less than she is, even when her mother is the one who owns the Belle.”

“Veronique didn’t help us against the Nazis when we needed it the other night, you did,” Falman said. “So far all she’s really done is drive us to help Luc and Sean. The rest of the time all we’ve seen her do is fawn over Luc.”

“Well, he is rather handsome,” Collette said. “Besides that, he’s one with bravery. Anyone that isn’t in the Resistance or fighting with De Gaulle has no spine to hold their back up. A shame I couldn’t have gotten to his side first.”

“Yeah, suppose we all have our problems in life,” Falman said. “Still, at least we’re striking back. Pretty soon the Nazis will be gone again.”  
  
“ _Oui_ , and then we can go back to how things were I suppose,” Collette said, sighing as she finished filled one of the drawers. “Better to be loathed by your own country than another, _non?_ ”

Falman went quiet at that. There was nothing he could say, not with as little as he’d been through compared to Collette. Growing up, his mother had always told him to never associate with anyone “beneath polite society”. Of course, the military had exposed him to more than enough people who his mother would’ve considered “beneath” her standards. Still Collette’s words hit harder than he expected.

Collette saw the look on his face and shook her head. “I know what I am, Falman. You don’t need to think that I don’t know what people say about me.”

“Right,” Falman said, scratching his head. “Guess I’d better start understanding that.”

Collette was still smiling as she kept unpacking he trunk. “I can take the rest. Thank you again, I appreciated the help.”

“No problem,” Falman said, stepping out of the room. “If you need anything else, just ask.” Closing the door as he left, Falman sighed. He was gonna need a long book to read after this was over.

* * *

“It’s like when the Equalists took over,” Mako said, gazing around at the city still under a heavy Nazi presence. “Everyone’s trying to not be noticed.”

“Can you blame them,” Havoc said, tapping off some ash from another terrible cigarette. “If they get caught doing anything the Nazis don’t like, it might mean being sent off to God knows where and having God knows what done to you.”

“Yeah,” Mako said, watching as a Nazi soldier grabbed some bread from a baker’s window. “Never thought I’d want to go back things in Dragon Flats.”

“Where you grew up right?” Havoc asked. Mako nodded. Havoc took a drag and said, “Sounds like a rough part of town.”

“It was,” Mako said. “When our parents died we wound up running with the Triple Threats. Kinda surprised there aren’t any triads in this city, they’d make some good cash off Santos’ operations.”

“Nazis must not like competition,” Havoc grumbled. “So, how’d you become a cop if you and your brother were technically criminals?”

“Well, we weren’t ever arrested,” Mako said, looking away for a moment. “All we did was run numbers anyway, if Beifong did look into it all she’d see was that I was only ever a suspect. Never anyone who could be considered a person of interest in any crimes. If I was, she would’ve never let me on the force, Korra or no Korra.”

“But you are Korra’s friend,” Havoc said. “You think that might have had a part in letting you in the door?”

“If it did, I never saw any evidence of it,” Mako pointed out. “Beifong kept me on traffic duty and street patrols for a while, and even after I became a detective that didn’t win me any respect from the rest of the department. Half the time I had to deal with idiots making jokes because I was dating the avatar.”

Havoc grinned and asked, “Remember any of those?”

“Only one, and only because it was at least a little funny when I had a bad day,” Mako said. “They told me I was lucky to be dating the avatar. If Beifong started giving me too much trouble, I could always have Korra use her power to force her out and make me chief.”

Havoc blinked. “I’m getting the idea that Chief Beifong is not someone who’s easy to work with.”

“That’s an understatement,” Mako grumbled. “Still, she’s the one person that people count on to know what they’re doing in the RCPD.”

“Sounds like the chief,” Havoc said. “Half the time he was the only person in East City who had any clue about what was going on and how to use us. Otherwise the command staff between him and Grumman would go through the motions and not get anything done.”

The two paused, looked at each other, and groaned, “A is A.”

“So, we’ve got two weeks until they might have a way to get us back,” Mako said, tuning out another propaganda broadcast about another victory, this time against the “Soviets”. “What do we do when we can go home?”

“I’ll check with Gen. Hammond,” Havoc said, throwing his cigarette on the ground as he walked. “Then we can -- ” Havoc stopped, staring across the street.

“What is it,” Mako asked, muscles tightening. All he saw was a car speeding past where Havoc was staring. “What’d you see?”

Havoc shook his head. “Must’ve been someone going into the apartments,” he said. “They weren’t there after the car passed by.”

“We should probably get back then,” Mako said, scanning the street. “What’d he look like?”

“Some bald guy in a black suit,” Havoc said, turning around. “Freaking Nazis, do they have to look so damn creepy?”


	14. Chapter 13 - Parc des Buttes and Palais Royale

**Chapter 13** – **Parc des Buttes and Palais Royale**

* * *

Two days of waiting turned into action, Fr. Denis coming into the Belle in the afternoon. Luc, Sean, Havoc, Al, and Korra circled around him in at one of the tables, Sean and Luc showing their deference to the man. “Hello father,” Luc said, as Mssr. Rousseau gave them all some beers. “What brings you here this early?”

“A vital matter,” Fr. Denis said. “How many of you know about the upper class of Paris?”

“Can’t say I haven’t been to a few of the mansions in the city,” Sean said, grinning. And earning a look from Korra and Al.

“Well the Nazis are trying to do more than that,” Fr. Denis said. “They believe that by marrying into the upper class of France, they can maintain control.” Luc slammed his fist down on the table, then said something in French that the MV leaders could tell wasn’t flattering.

“Father, forgive me,” Havoc said. “What does this have to do with the Resistance?”

“One of the Nazi commanders in the city is having his wedding, in the _Parc des Buttes,_ ” Fr. Denis said. “Much of the Nazi command will be present, an excellent opportunity to humiliate them and thin their numbers.”

“Sounds like a red wedding you’re planning father,” Sean said, grinning. “I don’t suppose you’ve got our invitations?”

“Better, they asked me to officiate,” Fr. Denis said, saying the words with a mix of anticipation and disgust. “This access should allow you to slip in unnoticed, fellow members of the priest’s party.”

“Sounds perfect,” Sean said. “Sweet innocent Catholics assisting a priest with his duties in the faith. So, we wipe’em all out?”

“Not all of them,” Fr. Denis said. “The groom, his groomsmen, anyone in a Nazi uniform is a target. However, the Nazis have pressured much of what is left of Paris’ high society to attend as well. We must not endanger them, they are innocents in this act.”

“We understand father,” Luc said. “We will make sure that the civilians are not targeted during this.”

Fr. Denis was going to speak, until Veronique rushed in. “Sean! Luc! Le Crochet’s men just gave us important intelligence.” She stopped when she saw Fr. Denis, and turned demure. “Oh, I’m so sorry father.”

“It’s alright my child,” Fr. Denis said. “What is the matter?”

“Le Crochet’s men, they found there’s a massive shipment of ammunition and arms being sent to North Africa.” Veronique grabbed a chair and pulled herself toward the table. “The arms are being stored in the _Palais Royale_ , they’re to be sent to the front in five days.”

“ _Merde,_ ” Luc growled, slamming a fist on the table. “Father, when is the wedding?”

“The day before the arms are to ship,” Fr. Denis said, his voice conflicted. “I cannot abandon the bride, you must understand. She is little more than a child, her family is being threatened by the Gestapo. If she does not marry this pig, her family will be sent to the camps.”

“Jesus,” Sean whispered. “Then it’s a decision on what’s more important.”

“Maybe not,” Havoc said, taking a drag. “Father, you said the Nazi high command will be in attendance? Maybe we can use this to our advantage.”

Luc started to smile as the wheels started to spin in his head. “ _Oui_ , any response will be focused on securing them than anywhere else in the city. Provided we put them in enough danger.”

“Where do we start then?” Korra asked.

“Let’s be honest, the more important target is the ammunition dump,” Havoc said, nodding as he noticed Fr. Denis' glare. "Taking out that shipment can damage the Nazi position in North Africa, make them vulnerable and force them back. Saving the wedding gets us in good with the upper class, but doesn't shorten the war any. Sean, you’ll come with my team and help us destroy the supply depot. Korra, I want your team to handle taking out the wedding. May, you got with them. Help them figure out the best way to take out the Nazis without killing the civilians.” He didn’t acknowledge Al sliding down in his chair.

“The Nazis aren’t gonna take this lying down Havoc,” Luc said. “You are going after their top leadership, they will respond.”

“I’m counting on it,” Havoc said, blowing out smoke and turning to Korra. “Protect the civilians and give us some time. When we blow that depot, I want so many Nazis surrounding that wedding that it looks impossible to escape from. Which is the point where a squad of Le Crochet’s men will clear a path and help you all escape.”

“Then how will they infiltrate the wedding?” Veronique asked. “The Nazis will be on guard, expecting trouble. “You can’t expect them to walk in with their weapons out?”

“No,” Luc said, smiling as he glanced at Fr. Denis. “I think there will be a better way for them to infiltrate the wedding.”

* * *

“This is nuts,” Korra whispered, keeping her head down beside ASami. “There’s no way we can pull this off!”

“Easy Korra,” Asami whispered back, failing to hide her nervousness. “Fr. Denis gave this the okay, he knows what he’s doing.”

“This still feels like we’re pressing our luck,” Korra shot back. “We can’t fight in these things, what happens if something starts too early?”

“Would you both stop it,” Mako hissed. “You’re gonna draw attention!”

“Easy for you to say,” Korra grunted, trying to adjust her habit. “These things are worse than what I wore training with the airbenders!”

Bolin didn’t argue any of the points, looking down at his “cassock”. The white collar itched against his neck, he and Mako feeling ridiculous with the gold crosses hanging down on their chests. At least they were looking better than Korra and Asami, wearing floor-length black dresses with head coverings. Luc had said it was the best way to keep them inconspicuous alongside Fr. Denis during the wedding. Of course, the problem was that they had to _help_ Fr. Denis during the wedding ceremony.

A ceremony that none of them knew anything about.

“This way my friends,” Fr. Denis said, standing at the gazebo at the hill. “We must prepare for the day ahead. Now, do you remember your roles?”

“Bolin carries the censer, I hold the bucket of water, Korra and Asami stand to the side.” Mako blinked. “You’re sure that’s all they can do?”

“It keeps them out of sight of the Nazis,” Fr. Denis said. “More than that, this ceremony requires no aid from nuns. It would suspicious to have them so involved.” Korra wanted to ask how that made any sense, especially since among airbenders women had always been considered as much a part of their spiritual life as the men. The fact that Fr. Denis had no context for what an airbender was held her back.

“Remember to look for my cues,” Fr. Denis said, kissing a blue stole before putting it around his neck. “And recall what young Ms. Chang said, the perfect time to strike must be kept in mind.” The four nodded, glancing about as they prepared to help “officiate” the wedding.

The size of the wedding parties was shocking, in more ways than one. On the bride’s side, the gathered, finely-dressed, and nervous looking civilians of Parisian society. They huddled close to each other, glancing in fear at the groom’s side of the wedding.

The Nazis were proud, like the past two weeks hadn’t happened. They laughed, shouted, even sang in a few cases. The groom stood proud at the altar, bedecked in his black SS uniform and bearing badges of imaginary honor. He stood ramrod straight, smiling more like a hunter that had bagged a prize than a groom about to see his bride. Part of Bolin deeply wished he had his lavabending right now, at that exact moment. That way he could drown the uniformed monsters in a better fate than he felt they deserved.

On the groom’s side, Eckhardt sat quiet. The younger officers were well within their right to enjoy some happiness, it was a wedding after all. He hadn’t expected to be invited, it was an SS man being married after all. Still, it would not do to have the Wehrmacht deny a formal invitation to a wedding of a loyal Nazi officer.

“Gen. Eckhardt.” Looking up, Eckhardt saw Dierker taking a seat next to him. “It is good to see you here for the ceremony. Some said you wouldn’t be able to attend.”

“I am glad to prove them wrong,” Eckhardt said, staring ahead. “Your officer, he is well-regarded?”

“Capt. Landa has been instrumental in rooting out the enemies of the Reich,” Dierker said. “Thanks to him, the farmlands surrounding Paris have rooted of Jews and Gypsies. With his efforts, future space has been promised for future Aryans for decades to come.”

Eckhardt took a long inhale and said, “I am surprised to see you here, actually. I had thought you were a believer in Herr Himmler’s ideals on blood and ancestry. To be here at a Catholic wedding, it is surprising to say the least.”

Dierker puffed out his chest slightly. “Capt. Landa is a Catholic, it is no issue to me how my men pursue their personal affairs so long as they act in their duties to Fuhrer and Fatherland.”

“The mark of a good commander,” Eckhardt said, looking to his left. The wedding cake was there, a three-tiered giant bedecked in swastikas, a bride and groom atop it. “And where is your adjutant?”

“Franziska had her own matters to handle today,” Dierker said, stiffening. “She will arrive once she has the time.”

“Yes, it would be a shame to see her miss this,” Eckhardt said, suppressing a grin. “A punishment might be necessary if so.” Dierker grimaced at the comment.

Behind the gazebo, May glared at the wedding. She’d already planned it out in her head, every action to be taken. The park was wide open, more evidence that the Nazis were too proud for their own good. There was more than enough space to be killed by a sniper, and more importantly areas for potential assassins to hide in. She watched as Mako and Bolin walked with Fr. Denis as Korra and Asami moved to the side.

Everything was set up as Fr. Denis expected. The Nazi officers, lined up in neat rows of seats, wearing their best uniforms and medals for the occasion. The fools that they were, not expecting any kind of threat to their lives after everything that had happened. In Xing, the wedding parties would be small and indoors. The clan would have guards on the rooftops, tasters for all the food, even a guard by the wedding party to stop the priest from attempting an assassination. Even the fact that the wedding was taking place on an island in the middle of a lake, they only took the most basic steps to secure the wedding party. They made no plans to secure the area against assassins that could swim across the water, and climb up the sides of the island. To act like this when there was a clear threat? She shook her head and whispered, “Pathetic.”

Korra and Asami stood to the side of the ceremony, heads bowed but eyes up. “How long do we have to stay like this?”

“Until Fr. Denis starts with the vows,” Asami whispered back. “I hope that’s soon, this dress is heavy.”

“No kidding,” Korra said, feeling the weight of the weapons sewn inside weighing her down. “I feel like I’m carrying a flying bison calf in this thing.”

Fr. Denis ascended the stairs of the gazebo, holding out his hands, saying, “The Lord be with you.”

Korra and Asami braced themselves. This was about to be a long service.

* * *

Havoc watched the gate at the back of the Palais Royale. Two Nazis stood guard, weapons ready and glaring at anyone who walked by. That wasn’t the part Havoc was concerned about, not when he looked over the walls of the building. He saw small blimps hanging on cables above the building, though he didn’t see any guns or gondolas under them. Searchlights pointed up, as banks of lights shone done in the center of the courtyard. There was an AA battery at each corner of the structure, along with roving patrols inside the fence of the perimeter.

“I hope you’re right about this,” Sean said, glaring at Havoc. “Those Legionnaires are our best fighters. Sending them at the front door like you are could get them all killed.”

“They only need to distract the Nazis and draw their attention,” Havoc said. “Once they’ve been lured away, we can strike from the rear and destroy the supplies in the depot.”

“I certainly hope you know what you’re doing then,” Sean said. “I don’t much like the idea of being caught inside the palace when the Legionnaires have to pull back.”

“I think you can handle it,” Havoc said, blowing out smoke.

Sean’s eyes narrowed. “That supposed to mean something?”

“Depends,” Havoc replied, throwing his cigarette away. “Right now, it means that I can trust you to get the job done. Hopefully, that’s all it has to be.” Sean turned away from Havoc and glared at the Palais Royale. Shrugging, Havoc checked his watch. Ten minutes until Fr. Denis said to strike.

* * *

Korra felt ready to collapse, trying to appear as sacrosanct as Tenzin did during meditation situations. So far the “mass” had carried on for over a half-hour, filled with readings and singing and reading and kneeling and standing and sitting and _Spirits why do Catholics do this to themselves?!_ Bolin had swung the censer during the ceremony, walking around the bride and groom spreading the sickly-sweet incense around their heads. Except for the fact he added too much incense and nearly smoked himself out. Mako tried to bless the people with water, but wound up nearly drenching them during the ceremony by using so much water the bucket was almost empty by the end. Some of the Nazis were glaring at him, the firebender beating a quick retreat back to Fr. Denis.

It wasn’t any easier for Korra and Asami. They tried to go along with the mass, but couldn’t follow any of it. They heard one of the bride’s family reading a story about someone named Abraham, and how he took on a second wife named Hagar when he was already married (Which made no sense to either of them). One of the Nazis read a letter from someone named Paul to the Galatians, something about truth making people “enemies”. All they knew was that they were standing up with guns in their outfits and struggling to make it through what apparently was such a common religious ceremony in this world. As the guests offered “peace” to each other by shaking hands (And hugs and tears from the bride’s family), Fr. Denis motioned to Mako and Bolin.

The two brothers grabbed the gold cups and plates Fr. Denis had brought, setting them atop a small altar in front of the gazebo. The groom was still smiling like a prizewinner, the bride desperate to fight back tears.

Fr. Denis raised his hands, then started out with, “I believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth, of all things seen and unseen.” Korra and Asami fought back a groan. The prayer went on, and on, and _on_ , it was like hearing Tenzin go on about Guru Laghima’s teachings. Even as Fr. Denis ended the prayer and took the lid off the gold cup, he kept _praying_ and _blessing_ and _preaching_ and _SPIRITS JUST GET THIS OVER WITH ALREADY!_

Mako and Bolin were experiencing different emotions as they “helped” Fr. Denis. They noticed the groom sneer at them, muttering something about “ _Der wallach_ ” as he watched them move. Mako noticed him glancing at Korra and Asami more than once, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Make held himself back, starting to feel his anger boil realizing what the bastard had in mind. “ _I’d like to see you try,_ ” Mako thought. “ _You wouldn’t walk for a week._ ”

The bride another matter. She couldn’t hold her tears back anymore, and was silent as her tears hit the ground. She couldn’t have been but a year younger than Opal, a girl that hadn’t even left her family’s aegis. She glanced back at her family every few minutes, seizing up and looking for all the world like she wanted to run over to her weeping mother and pained father. Bolin’s hatred subsided seeing her face, recognizing the pain in her eyes. Then it came roaring back when the groom put his arm around her and grinned.

Fr. Denis was the one spot of calm in the whole terrible ordeal. He carried on with the mass, blessing the cup of wine and bowl of flat bread pieces before lining up the guests and giving it to them. Mako and Bolin noticed that several of the guests on the groom’s side didn’t go up, but sat in their chairs glaring at the priest. Most of them were the black-uniformed SS officers, some openly rolling their eyes at the ceremony. Fr. Denis took his time with the bride’s family though, giving them each a small blessing and a gentle smile as they took the bread and drank the wine.

When everyone had taken some of the bread and wine, Fr. Denis led the bride and groom up to the gazebo. The cries and wails from the bride’s family grew, countered by the cheers and claps from the groom’s side of the wedding.

May tensed, waiting for the signal. She checked her pistol, making sure it was ready. She would’ve preferred a blade, but the idea of getting close to scum like the Nazis? Even to end their miserable lives, she’d prefer to stay at a distance. She listened as Fr. Denis asked the groom to repeat after him, asking if he took the bride to have and hold, honor and cherish, in sicker and poorer, and each time he repeated May could tell he was a liar. When the bride repeated the words, she could barely answer without weeping. May’s grip tightened on the pistol.

“And now,” Fr. Denis announced to the crowd. “If anyone objects to this union, may they speak now or forever hold their peace.”

May jumped up the side of the gazebo, leaping over the railing and aiming at the groom. The Nazi started shouting, trying to draw his pistol. May didn’t yell out or say anything clever, she put a single bullet through his head.

The wedding erupted in chaos, Korra and Asami throwing off their outfits and grabbing their guns. Mako and Bolin sprinted over, Asami giving cover as Korra helped rip the guns out of the dresses. May shoved the bride down in the gazebo, firing her pistol into the groomsmen. Well, at least, firing at them. She put one bullet into each man, the three groomsmen put down with a single bullet through each of their heads.

Asami pulled up one of the “gifts” from the SGC, an SMG with a massive drum magazine. She started firing into the groom’s side of the wedding, cutting down Nazi after Nazi as they tried to react. It clattered like a typewriter with each round, chattering away in the trees. She didn’t notice Eckhardt and Dierker get shoved to the side by one of the officers, both falling back into the wedding cake and screaming as they tumbled off the side of the island.

Bolin racked the slide on his shotgun, firing into the groom’s side of the wedding. One of the Nazis tried to draw their pistol, and wound up taking the shot straight to his chest. Except his finger managed to tighten, and squeeze off a round. Bolin felt something hit his right shoulder, but the adrenaline and his own rage helped him to ignore it.

Before anyone realized it, the “fight” was over. On one side of the island, a heap of dead Nazis in blood-stained gray and black uniforms. On the other, a screaming and panicking family of civilians. The bride sprinted off the gazebo, rushing to her parents’ arms and crying out in French. Fr. Denis blessed himself, walking down to the team with a smile. “Well, I daresay we -- ”

Sirens in the distance. The civilians started to weep, screaming out and panicking. “That’s a lot of sirens,” Asami whispered. “Are we sure we can hold out?”

“Once the Nazis are distracted, they should be able to destroy the depot in roughly half an hour,” May said. “After the squad clears the way, we can escape.”

Korra grimaced as she checked the drum magazine. “I’ve only got about half of this left.”

“Then we’ll scavenge from the dead,” May said, voice solid as granite. Loading a fresh magazine in her pistol she shouted, “Everyone get ready, there’s two bridges to this island and they’ll probably come from both!”

* * *

Ten minutes after the attack on the wedding, a platoon of Legionnaires made their last checks. This was it, the do or die moment for their brothers in North Africa. France may have been occupied, but regardless of origin they all adhered to the words _Legio Patria Nostra_ ; The Legion is My Country.

A car rolled down the street in front of the palace, not immediately rousing any suspicion from the guards. That was until the car stopped in front of the gate, and four Legionnaires jumped out firing their weapons. The pop of pistols and the chatter of SMGs cut through the street, the guards at the front screaming out in shock. As the rest of the guards at the front started to react, that was when the Legionnaires on the rooftops started firing.

Havoc threw down his cigarette and said, “Let’s go.”

The team sprinted across the street, the two guards distracted and looking away toward the front of the palace. Sean and Havoc slammed the butts of their weapons into the necks of the guards, then sprinted for the rear of the building. A roving sentry tried to fire on them, but one shot from Breda’s shotgun cut the man down. Another Nazi tried to fire on them from the rooftop, but he was pushed back by fire from Fuery and Falman.

Havoc expected a lot of things when he ran inside the courtyard of the palace. He expected crates of weapons and ammunition. He expected guards behind prepared positions in case of attack. Even the massive fuel tanks didn’t surprise him. No, what did catch him off guard was the airship sitting dead-center in the middle of it all.

“They must be getting desperate,” Sean said, firing at another Nazi trying to rush them. “Bloody thing must be how they’re gonna get it all to Africa.”

“This is too easy,” Havoc groaned. “Spread out! Destroy everything you can find and keep each other covered!”

The five spread through the courtyard, keeping under cover of the terraces and walkways above them. The Nazis shouted and called out, fire raining down from on high. Guard towers with snipers and soldiers on the ground poured fire around them, rounds breaking the fine marble and elegant masonry.

Falman and Breda went left, Breda placing a block of explosive on a guard tower as Falman kept him covered. Explosives set, Breda raised his shotgun as the Nazi in the tower tried to peer over. One shell later, a faceless body slammed into the ground.

On the right, Fuery covered Havoc and Sean as they set some explosives at a small refueling pump. The important thing was that the pump had a half-full tanker truck of fuel on it. Havoc set the explosives, Sean opening the valves for when it was detonated. In the back of his mind, Havoc hoped the locals wouldn’t mind if they singed a local landmark.

Even with the promise of no Nazi reinforcements, fighting through the courtyard was akin to running through a lead rain. The area around the airship was filled with fuel tanks, and Havoc didn’t much like the sight of sparks from ricochets coming from them. The Nazis didn’t seem to feel too comfortable about it either, Havoc noticing that their shots were more paced, trying to be more precise. Perfect for exploiting.

Sean was already doing that, charging ahead as he fired from the hip. Two Nazis in greatcoats fell under the fire, and as he ducked behind a column to reload he heard someone barking orders. Peering around, he saw a Nazi officer trying to rally his forces to respond to the threat. Sean grinned, leveling his weapon at the man. That was when he noticed the officer signaling to the rooftops. Blinking, Sean looked up and realized where he was giving order. “Get down,” he shouted, sprinting back. “Everyone get down!”

The team was already ducking, seconds before a head-cracking boom sounded from the rooftops. Half a second later, a second blast tore up the right of the plaza. “What the hell,” Havoc groaned. “Are they really using their AA guns on us?”

“Bastards must be desperate,” Sean barked. “I’ll take the roof, you four keep tearing them up here!”

Havoc nodded, covering Sean as the Irishman started clambering up the side of the palace to the roof. Havoc didn’t have time to see Sean turn toward the nearest gun position, cutting down the two soldiers manning it before he jumped into the chair and turned it toward the next gun position. He was too busy catching a Nazi in the head as the greatcoat-wearing trooper tried to run from his cover.

At the front, the Legionnaires kept the pressure on the Nazis. Even with old hunting rifles and rusting shotguns, they asked and gave no quarter. Firing down on the Nazis from the rooftops and charging them in the street, the Legionnaires were heedless of the danger in front of them. The only thing that mattered was giving cover to the men inside the courtyard. Destroying the shipment of arms would be another blow, and aid their brothers in North Africa.

The courtyard was fast becoming a flaming inferno. Fuel drums and silos leaked everywhere, igniting the second they hit any source of flame. Breda felt the air around him getting hotter and hotter, trying to fight back the urge to sprint in the other direction.

Another boom, and another portion of the roof exploded. “Man, he’s not letting up,” Falman shouted, grabbing one of the assault rifles off a dead Nazi. Checking the weapon’s magazine, he slammed it home and chambered a round. “You don’t think they’ll mind if there’s some damage to the building, do you?”

Breda popped up and slam-fired the shotgun at a pair of Nazis standing by a trailer with a spinning circular aerial. “Ask me when we get outta here!” Breda noticed that as he fired the shotgun, the Nazis sounded angrier, directing more fire at him. “Hey, hand me some C-4!” Falman obliged, tossing Breda a block. Checking that everything was attached, he wound up and tossed it at the trailer. “Now!” Falman hit the detonator, blowing the trailer apart and scattering Nazis everywhere through the courtyard.

“Can’t hear any sirens,” Falman said, unbuttoning his shirt. “Think we’ll be okay?”

“That just makes me more worried,” Breda shouted as he loaded some fresh shells. “What’s happening at the wedding?”


	15. Chapter 14 - Burned and Battered

**Chapter 14 - Burned and Battered**

* * *

May popped up and fired at a squad of Nazi soldiers trying to rush them from one of the bridges on the island. She caught two, one in the chest and the other in the shoulder. She ducked back down as the rest started firing at her, giving Mako a chance to pop up and fire from his position behind a tree and cut down three more. One of them tumbled over the side of the bridge leading to the island, screaming all the way down.

Asami swapped magazines for the MP 40 she grabbed from one of the bodies and shouted, “Where’s the Legion?”

“I don’t know,” May answered. Then she heard shouting from her right and swore. “They’re trying to come across the other bridge!”

“On it,” Bolin barked, loading the last of his shells into his shotgun. Before anyone could follow, Bolin was already sprinting toward the small foot bridge leading to the island.

“Dammit,” Mako growled, ducking low. “I’ve got him, keeps me covered!” Sprinting from rock he was covering behind, he plunged through the trees to where Bolin had ran through. That’s when he paused and blinked at the sight.

Bolin had charged through the trees into a squad of Nazis trying to flank them, and already two Nazis were dead on the ground. Mako came through the trees right as Bolin pulled the trigger, and put another shotgun shell through the chest of a third. Mako raised his rifle, but didn’t have a shot. Bolin was in the thick of the Nazi squad now, any attempt to help him might wind up killing him. Which Bolin didn’t seem to care about, since he was buttstroking Nazis left and right. One of the Nazi officers shook off the hit and raised his pistol, firing as Bolin chambered another round. The Nazi’s shot burst out the back of Bolin’s right calf.

Bolin’s shot took the Nazi’s head off.

More shouts from across the bridge. Looking up, Mako saw another squad of Nazis sprinting toward Bolin. Raising his rifle, Mako started firing bursts at them. Dropping on the bridge, the Nazis called out trying to figure out how to respond. That gave Bolin the cover to finish off the last Nazi in his way and move back to cover.

“What the hell was that Bolin,” Mako shouted, keeping the Nazis pinned as Bolin crouched behind a rise. “You didn’t think that you'd need help?”

“If I waited we’d be swarmed,” Bolin shouted back. Tearing off his right sleeve, he tied it around his leg wound and picked his shotgun back up. “C’mon, they’re still coming!” Mako gritted his teeth and focused on the Nazis still trying to push across the bridge.

Back at the main bridge, May swore as a Nazi truck rolled into view. She was on her last magazine, and the Nazis looked like they were ready to make a strong push with the truck their way. That was when she saw the truck riddled with fire, the two soldiers in the front seats dead and slumped in their seats. Turning around, she saw Fr. Denis holding the SMG Korra had been using, Korra shoved to the ground and staring up in shock. Looking at May, Fr. Denis shrugged and said, “She’s a terrible shot.”

“I won’t argue,” May said, Korra shocked that the princess was so direct.

“We’re running out of ammo,” Asami said, swapping a fresh magazine in a scavenged MP-40. “We need to get out of here, we can’t wait for the Legionnaires.”

“We cannot abandon the bride’s family,” Fr. Denis shouted. “These people must be aided in escaping the Nazis!”

“Father we won’t be able to help anyone if we can’t escape,” May shouted. “If the Legionnaires aren’t here in five minutes, we need to run.”

“I will not,” Fr. Denis barked, putting the SMG to his shoulder. “God may be our shepherd, but he still expects us to save our own asses!”

May shook her head and looked for a new weapon. The priest was right in trying to save the bride and her family, but wrong in thinking it was the most important thing. As she picked up a bolt-action carbine she checked there was some ammo inside the magazine well and kept moving. It was like Havoc mentioned before, they needed to stay focused on the real priorities of their mission. They had come here to kill the Nazi commanders, not save the bride’s family. Getting them to safety was second to getting back into hiding alive. Propping the rifle up on a shattered flower pot, May aimed at a soldier trying to take cover behind the truck. She fired, and watched as the man flinched away from the spark of the round hitting the truck. Chambering another round, ignoring the gunfire around her, May took a few more seconds and fired again. This time the round slammed into the Nazi’s foot, the man crying out in pain as he collapsed. May chambered a third round and waited for him to write into the perfect position, then put one through his head.

Korra was thinking on another track as she grabbed a pistol from a dead officer. Fr. Denis was right, the civilians didn’t deserve to be left to the “mercy” of the Nazis.” _Maybe they can get out across the water? No, no chance, not in some of those dresses._ ” Watching as a pair of Nazis tried to run from the bridge, she raised the pistol and fired at them. She watched as they two ducked their heads but still make it off unscathed. “ _Ugh! Stupid gun, work with me here!_ ”

On the other side of the bridge, on a street leading up to the park, Franziska glared ahead. The radio in the Gestapo staff car was going crazy, alerting them to an attack on the wedding at the same time as an insurgent strike at the Palais Royale. Her driver did his best to not react, even though Franziska noticed the color starting to drain from his face as the radio operator sounded more and more desperate.

“Keep driving,” Franziska growled. “We need to ensure the safety of our commanders, pull yourself together.”

“ _Jawohl_ ,” the driver whispered. “But you aren’t worried that -- ”

“We don’t know what’s happened to the wedding guests,” Franziska said. “Now drive.”

The car rolled ahead, plowing through the streets. Civilians dove out of their way, shouting and waving their fists until they saw the swastikas on the car. Other cars were forced off the road, preferring to avoid trouble than face the potential wrath of the Gestapo.

It was a block away from the park that the car was riddled with bullets. The driver took one through the top of his head, turning the wheel right as his body went limp. Franziska braced herself, feeling the car slam into one of the apartments. Shaking her head clear, she drew her pistol and ducked behind the car, scanning the street around her. As fire came down from the rooftops, she saw a group of men with blue armbands sprinting toward the park, weapons up.

May sent a kick at the chin of one of the Nazi soldiers, knocking him out and sending him backward into the dirt. That was when she realized there was fire coming from behind the Nazis. She saw some of the soldiers cut down, and a squad of men with blue armbands running toward them. “They’re here!”

Asami looked around, and saw the truck was still idling. “May, run ahead, we’ll cover you! Father, tell the family to get aboard that truck!” The priest complied, shouting in French and leading them onto the bridge as May rushed ahead.

“I’ll get Mako and Bolin,” Korra shouted, sprinting out of cover. She ran to the other side of the island to see Bolin bleeding from two wounds, but still firing his shotgun at the Nazis. “C’mon you two, the Legionnaires are here!”

Mako started to move, but both paused and turned to see Bolin was still shooting at the Nazis. Teeth bared, Mako ran to his brother and grabbed him. “Bolin, we need to get out of here, now!”

“Not yet,” Bolin shouted, still firing his shotgun. “There’s still Nazis over there!”

“There’s Nazis everywhere Bolin,” Mako shouted. “C’mon, we need to move!”

“No!” Bolin tore himself free from mako’s grip. “We can’t leave yet!”

“What? Bolin, we’re going,” Mako shouted, dropping his scavenged rifle and grabbing Bolin. “C’mon, we’re done here!”

Bolin turned on his brother and screamed, “We have to stop them!”

“We are!” Mako grabbed Bolin by the shirt and started pulling him away. Bolin grabbed back and started scuffling with his brother. Korra wanted to get between the two, but realized there were still some Nazis trying to make it across the bridge. She raised her looted SMG and started firing, trying to ignore the pair shouting at each other behind her.

“We can’t leave,’ Bolin barked, eyes wild. “We have to stop them! We can’t run!”

“Listen to yourself!” Mako shouted as he started to force Bolin up the hill to the truck. “You’re not making any sense Bolin, we need to get out of here!”

“We need to stop them!” Bolin fought to stay where he was, trying to pull Mako’s hands off his shirt. “We can’t run, we can’t stop fighting them!”

“We aren’t stopping!” Mako barked, managing to put Bolin off balance. “Spirits, Bolin, you’re hurt!”

“I can still fight,” Bolin said, sounding like he was trying to barter with Mako. “We can’t leave, we have to keep fighting them!”

Mako ignored Bolin at that point, focusing on dragging him toward the main bridge. “Korra, c’mon!” Korra fired off a final burst before she ran to the pair. As Bolin kept struggling, the two hoisted him over their shoulders and started hauling him away.

Getting back to the bridge, Korra saw Fr. Denis and May loading the bride’s family onto a Nazi truck, the wedding party cramming into the back regardless of their fine clothes. Asami was already in the driver’s seat, yelling at Fr. Denis, “C’mon, we need to get moving!”

Fr. Denis motioned for the last of the guests to get on the truck, until the bride tripped and landed in a head on the bridge. Fr. Denis tried to move for her, but was forced to fire at the Nazis. Korra didn’t wait, she sprinted over and scooped the bride up in her arms. As Mako kept hauling Bolin to the truck, Korra carried the bride to the back of the truck. Handing her off, she ran back to the front to see Mako still carrying Bolin. Getting back under Bolin’s arm, Korra kept moving him. Together they got the earthbender up and in the back of the truck, Mako jumping in and holding Bolin in place.

“May,” Korra shouted. “We’re in!” May turned and sprinted to the truck, clearing the bed and landing in the back in one fluid motion. Looking to the front of the truck, Korra saw Fr. Denis hauling himself into the cab. Satisfied, Korra ran up and held on to the handle next to the door. “Go!”

Asami shifted the truck into reverse, ignoring the groans under the bridge as she spun the wheel around to face the truck forward. Working the clutch, she put the truck in drive and pulled out of the park. The Legionnaires covered them, clearing the way out of the park as the truck roared onto the streets. Hanging off the side of the cab, Korra used her other hand to fire the SMG at any Nazi she saw.

Franziska watched the truck lumber out of the park. She couldn’t see Korra, but she did see a head of long, black hair turned away from her as the truck roared into the north of the city. Five minutes later the fire died down, and Franziska rose to see a street littered with dead Nazi soldiers and shot-up vehicles. Pistol out, she rushed into the park and past the continued trail of dead soldiers and abandoned vehicles. She gazed at the scale of the destruction inside, staring at the dozens of corpses. The groom’s side was littered with bodies, sprawled out across the chairs and hanging down the side of the island leading to the lake around it. The groom was sprawled across the steps of the gazebo, blood trickling down the stairs under his splayed body.

Rustling to the left. Raising her pistol, Franziska saw a pair of arms crawling up the side of the island. Eckhardt and Dierker managed to get back up to the seats, both covered in cake icing. Dierker even managed to get the bride and groom stuck on the top of his head. “Sirs,” she said, running over. “Are you -- ”

Dierker glared at her and growled, “Get us back to headquarters.”

* * *

The Palais Royale was almost cleared out, more a morgue than a Nazi supply depot. Havoc put another burst into a Nazi trying to take cover behind a pile of ammunition crates. As the man dropped, Havoc heard another boom from the gun Sean had taken. There must have been an autoloading system in the battery, there was no way the Irishman was loading both cannons on his own.

“Havoc,” Fuery shouted as the fire from the Nazis started to die down. “There’s something near the front of the courtyard!”

Havoc grabbed a grenade from one of the Nazi bodies. “What is it?”

“It looks like a rocket,” Fuery shouted. “It’s bigger than the ones the Aerugans use, three stories at least!”

Havoc didn’t believe it. A three-story tall rocket? What did the Nazis expect to use it on, a stalled convoy? Still, if they had a rocket, better to destroy it than leave it be. “How many charges do you have left?”

“Two,” Fuery shouted, swapping magazines. “Want me to -- ”

“Yes!” As Havoc threw the grenade, he heard a blast from behind. Checking, he saw one of the low-hanging blimps falling in flames. Sean was still at work on the guns, even as his grenade threw a Nazi out from behind a piece of rubble.

Fuery sprinted to the platform the rocket sat on, hearing more gunfire around him as he pulled out the explosives. Wiping away the sweat that threatened to blind him, he set the charge against the body of the rocket. That’s when a burst of machine gun fire nearly killed him. Sprinting for a control console on the platform, he poked his head out looking for a source. There were no soldiers firing at him, no vehicles or mounted guns it could have come from. That was when Fuery realized he heard engines overhead. Poking his head up, he saw a zeppelin flying overhead, firing bursts down on the palace and the street.

“ _Not good,_ ” Fuery though, hearing another rain of lead come down around him. “ _Even if we take out all the Nazis in here we’re still --_ ” His worries vanished when he heard the AA guns boom, followed by the zeppelin bursting into flames. “ _Oh. That’ll work._ ” Setting the charges at the base of the rocket, Fuery heard a blast to the rear of the palace. Looking up, he saw Sean clambering down the interior of the building to the ground. Grinning, he finished arming the charges and called to Havoc, “All set!”

“Great, now get to the front!” Watching Fuery run off, he searched for Breda and Falman. He found them ducking through the flames running his way. “The front,” he shouted. “Get to the front!” The pair nodded, sprinting to the front of the palace. Sean ran up a minute later, and Havoc sprinted with him to the exit. The team ran out, the Legionnaires signaling them to take cover in the buildings. Making sure they were running, Havoc grabbed the detonator and squeezed the button.

The palace was aflame. Now it was an inferno. The blast of the rocket exploding combined with the explosion from the zeppelin docked in the courtyard. The center of the palace turned into a bonfire that made Hell look like Mt. Briggs, the mushroom cloud blossoming above the city. The shockwave shattered the windows around the palace, Havoc stumbling as he fell inside the apartments. As the Legionnaires shut the door he hauled himself up, brushing off the front of his shirt.

“Well, I think that worked,” he said, grinning. Then he saw his team was smoldering, and the stink of singed hair filled his nose. Looking down, he realized he was smoldering too. “Oooooh, this is gonna suck.”

* * *

Cleaning off the cake and dirt wasn’t the problem, it was the fact that Dierker and Eckhardt had to accept what had happened, had really happened.

In his office in the Pantheon, Eckhardt groaned as he leaned back in his chair. His staff had rushed to get him a new uniform, but at the moment he was content to slump back in his chair and let the exhaustion of the day roll off his soul. He’d faced death before, as an officer during WWI, then in the campaign through France. It was the blatancy of the attack on the wedding that struck him. The priest had been an agent of the Resistance, by God there were multiple religious involved! He’d listened as he’d crawled up the side of the island, the chattering SMGs and pops of pistols…

The shotgun was the worst of it. That _boom-boom-boom_ , cutting through fine officers of the Wehrmacht. Like it was back in the trenches, watching as American Marines charged their lines and cut them down with a weapon made against animals. Fine German soldiers killed by a hunting implement, made for deer and wolf! Now the French dared to use it!

His flashback of the trenches was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Enter.”

A young lieutenant came in, snapping to attention. “Pardon me sir, but there was another incident at the time of the attack on the wedding.”

“Whatever happened can wait an hour,” Eckhardt groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “The world won’t end while I collect myself.”

The junior officer didn’t budge. “I’m afraid this is a vital matter, sir.”

That had Eckhardt’s attention. “What’s vital about it?”

“The enemy also struck our depot at the Palais Royale, before our supplies could be sent out…” The officer froze as Eckhardt rose from his desk, eyes locked on the man. “The depot was destroyed, sir.”

“Destroyed.” It wasn’t anger in Eckahrdt’s voice, no trace of rage or fury. No, it was too calm. As he moved for the window, he glared at the city. His officers killed like animals? His authority questioned, even humiliated? Now a supply shipment to the Afrika Korps destroyed?

“I want our mechanics to arm all of our patrol vehicles,” Eckhardt said. “All our motorcycles, patrol cars, even the trucks. I want our patrols in the city to stop anyone they consider suspicious, whenever they’re found. I want an increased guard presence around all supply and fuel depots. Tell all vehicle commanders in the city that they are authorized to open fire without a need to request permission in the city limits. Is any of this unclear?” The lieutenant shook his head, he was too afraid to do or say anything else. “Then what are you still doing here?”

As the lieutenant near-sprinted from the room, Eckhardt’s eyes narrowed. If this “Resistance” wanted to play this game alongside American agents? Very well, he would play right back.

* * *

Dierker threw another bottle of cognac to the floor, roaring out in rage. “Filthy Gauls! They’ll pay, they’ll all pay for this! They will not humiliate the SS and live!” Franziska smiled as she watched Dierker storm through his office, throwing books and bottles and lights about the room. Dierker paused and stormed up to her and growled, “I want more men in this city, do you understand? I want more men, veterans of the Eastern Front! I want them here, now, no matter how much it costs!”

“You’ll have them,” Franziska said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. “Once they arrive, these rats will all die when they try to fight against you!”

“Yes, yes they will die,” Dierker growled. “But they’re not rats, they’re less than rats! They insult the Reich, they insult the Aryan race! These filthy mongrel dogs! They must bow before us!”

“They will,” Franziska said, rising from her chair. Before Dierker realized what was happening, her hand had wrapped around his throat. “But first, you have to answer for them humiliating you.”

An hour later, Franziska walked out of the office and turned to the secretary. “Maj. Dierker wants a request made to the _Reichssicherheitshauptamt_. One company of _Einsatzgruppen_ veterans from Russia, we will handle training and equipment. Alert the office that this is of the highest priority, and that Maj. Dierker will answer for any incidents that might arise from the transfer.” The secretary nodded and started typing as Franziska straightened her cap and walked out. Then the SS “soldier” sighed and buried his head in his hands. It was bad enough being assigned to a desk in his mind. Being forced to hear everything that happened when Dierker and Franziska had a “discussion” was so much worse.

* * *

Havoc winced and twitched as he eased himself into the bath. The Rousseau’s had tossed their clothes, stinking of fuel and smoke, into the nearest trash can fire. It did nothing for Havoc, burnt from the radiant heat of the flames. His ears were still ringing too, that many explosions in such close proximity did no favors.

“Here you are,” Veronique said, setting a fresh set of clothes on the toilet next to the bath. “These should do once you get out of the tub.”

“I think I could stay here forever,” Havoc said. He tried to grin, but his burnt face wouldn’t let him. “How’s my team?”

“Your men and Sean are in the same state,” Veronique said. She shook her head and sighed. “You’re all going to get yourselves killed if you keep acting so recklessly.”

“Someone has to do it,” Havoc said. “We need to keep the Legionnaires alive long enough to do the work.”

“You’ve done plenty yourselves,” Veronique said. “Luc said that the attacks have already stirred up support for the Resistance, the family we rescued has already said it wants to support our cause.”

“Good for us,” Havoc grunted, sighing as the cool water took away some of the pain. “What about you?”

“Me?” Veronique shook her head. “No, I couldn’t possibly! I’m not a fighter, I don’t even know how to handle a gun.”

“Fair enough,” Havoc said, starting to dip his head into the water. “Your parents, they aren’t worried?”

“Papa and Maman have always lived close to a seedier life,” Veronique said, shrugging. “Fighting alongside Luc and his forces must strike them as a welcome change.”

Havoc looked toward the woman. “From what I see, the girls don’t mind your parents being in charge.”

“They didn’t grow up in this place,” Veronique said, voice going quiet. “I do love my parents of course. It’s only I’ve seen the uglier side of humanity here. Being in this place reminds me of why I left when I was old enough to support myself. Thank God Mssr. Morini took me on as part of his racing team.”

Havoc looked up and said, “He was a racer?”

“He built his own car, the Aurora,” Veronique said, smiling. “Jules and Sean loved working on it. Every day they kept trying to make it better. Vittore would always shout at them, said they were trying to meddle with perfection.”

The pain in her voice didn’t escape Havoc’s ears. “Tell me,” he said, turning his neck enough to see her despite the pain. “What happened to Jules?”

Veronique looked away. “Sean’s first race as a driver was in Saarbrücken before the war broke out,” she said. “Dierker was one of the other racers that day. When Sean was about to win the race, Dierker sabotaged the car. The pig shot out the front tires.”

“Sounds like a reasonable reaction to losing,” Havoc grunted.

“Sean’s reaction was no better,” Veronique said. “He and Jules decided to break into the Dopplesieg Motorworks, where Dierker’s car was being stored. They thought they would break in and push the car into the river. Then they were caught…” Veronique’s voice started to quake, and she turned away. “Then the Nazis invaded Poland, the war began…We never even got to bury my brother.”

Havoc was silent for a few seconds, then said, “I’m fine for now. If I need anything more, I’ll call. And Veronique? Thanks for the help you’re giving my team.”

“Of course,” she whispered, wiping her hand across her eyes. “Excuse me, I should go.”

As Veronique left, Havoc slunk farther into the tub. “ _If Sean’s that hotheaded,_ ” Havoc thought. “ _This could be something valuable._ ”

* * *

Three rooms down, Mako wrapped some bandages around Bolin’s leg as the earthbender sat on the edge of the bed. “We need to talk.”

Bolin stared down at the floor. “About what?”

“About what happened,” Mako said, tying off the white cloth. “You should’ve been running for the truck the second we told you they had our way out.”

“Fine, I got a little too focused,” Bolin said, trying and failing to sound bored. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Mako growled, rising up. “You got shot.”

Bolin turned his head away. “They aren’t that bad, Havoc said so.”

“Then why’d you fight me,” Mako said, glaring at Bolin. “You’re not thinking straight Bolin, it’s like you’re back with Ku -- ”

“Do not go there Mako,” Bolin growled, pointing a finger at his brother. “I am not acting like I did with Kuvira.”

“You are,” Mako said, standing firm. “You’re not seeing something that’s right in front of your face, you’re getting obsessed with killing Nazis.”

Bolin put on cheery airs and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought the Nazis were the bad guys here. Remind me, who was the one who read all about what they’ve done?”

“Don’t make me the one that’s in the wrong here,” Mako said, stepping toward Bolin. “I’m always right when you’re getting to emotional about something, and you always say I’m wrong.”

“Because you are!” Bolin shot up from the bed. “This time you’re so wrong, you can’t see it! We have to stop the Nazis, as many as we can! Otherwise we’re condemning this world to the same horrors that happened to SG-1’s history!”

"Then what about you saying that the Nazis will lose no matter what?" Mako said. "We aren't here to save this entire world from them Bolin, you're forgetting that. The minute the SGC figures out how to get us home, we're going home."

“No, Gen. Hammond won’t do that,” Bolin snarled. “He’ll let us stay, he’ll tell us to help them.”

“So you’re fine risking death here, instead of going back home to Opal?”

“Oh, that is so like you Mako,” Bolin said, rolling his eyes. “Use our friends and loved ones when you’re losing an argument to make me feel guilty.”

"I'm not losing this argument!" Mako shouted. "I'm trying to tell you that you're not thinking clearly right now. You need to take some time away from this Bolin."

“That’s kinda hard when we can’t get back to the SGC, don’t you think?” Bolin limped up to Mako, glaring his brother eye to eye. “If we don’t fight, we might as well lay down and die! Because that’s what Nazis do to people who don’t fight back!”

“We are fighting back,” Mako said, the pair butted up against each other. “We’ve been fighting them for three weeks! What do you want us to do, go out and shoot every Nazi in the street? That’s not fighting back, that’s suicide!”

“Stop telling me what should happen!” Bolin pressed himself forward. “You don’t know a thing about what these people are like!”

“Neither do you!” Mako pressed back against his brother. “Get it through your head Bolin, you’re not a Nazi!”

“Don’t think I don’t know that!” Bolin roared, pushing Mako away. “Saying it isn’t enough, not when we can do something against them!”

"Don't push me," Mako shouted, pushing Bolin back.

Bolin pushed again and roared, “Stop pushing _me!_ ”

Mako batted Bolin’s hands away. Bolin tried to grab Mako’s hands. Mako grabbed one of Bolin’s arms and pushed with his free hand. Bolin batted it away with his arm and tried to grab Mako. Mako kept pressing forward, Bolin’s wounded leg betraying him. Falling back, Bolin gripped Mako and spun, the brothers slamming onto the floor. Bolin rolled to get the advantage, forcing Mako down as he tried to get up. Mako answered by putting his knee into Bolin’s gut and pressing. Bolin didn’t budge, so Mako tried another tactic and went to grab Bolin’s shirt. He misjudged, his hand grabbing Bolin's shoulder wound. Bolin cried out, giving Mako the chance to force himself up. Bolin didn't let the pain stop him, and used Mako's momentum against him -- with a shout, Bolin slammed his brother into a dresser as he rose from the floor. His arms shook from pinning Mako against the furniture until Mako started pressing Bolin back.

Not wanting to lose ground again, Bolin stomped on Mako's foot. Mako cried out, Bolin using the chance to send the top of his head into Mako's jaw. Mako stumbled back, leaving himself open as Bolin charged headlong into Mako's gut. Mako slammed into the wall with the force, but answered by smashing his fists into Bolin's back. As Bolin stumbled away, Mako grabbed his brother and wrestled him to the floor.

"What's going on?!" Korra shouted, throwing the door open. "Are you two trying to tear down the -- "

Mako and Bolin both looked up and shouted, " ** _SHUT THE DAMN DOOR!_** " Korra did so instantly, staring at the wood with a blank expression.

"Korra!" Asami said, running up. "What's wrong? Are Mako and Bolin okay?"

"Uh, I think so?" Korra blinked. "I think they're having a brotherly moment." The Avatar began to walk away from the muffled, continuing commotion.

The next ten minutes was punctuated by the sounds of crashes, thuds, shouts, yelps, and the occasional howl from the bedroom. Al seemed oddly at peace with the mess, smiling a little as the door shook. Asami and May stared at the door, cringing and flinching with each successive crash and cry.

After ten minutes, Bolin stood panting, his shirt torn, his hair messed up, with a slight trickle of blood from the left side of his mouth. Mako was little better, sporting a bruised right eye and a bloody nose.

“You…give up…yet?” Bolin panted.

“Not even…close…” Mako gasped.

Bolin staggered forward, still glaring at his brother. “You always…Always think…That I need someone…Looking out for me…”

“That’s because…I’m your brother…” Mako said, shuffling toward Bolin. “Someone…Someone has to…”

Bolin’s face started to tighten, his eyes pained. “They’re…Don’t you get it, bro? They’re…They’re me…”

“They aren’t you,” Mako said, gripping his brother’s unwounded shoulder. “I don’t know how…How many times we can tell you.”

“It’s not telling me…” Bolin said, losing the fight against his watering eyes. “It’s…I need to…I need to prove that I’m not, you know?”

“Not by killing yourself,” Mako said, gripping his brother’s shoulder. “Not by thinking you need to die because of what you did.”

Bolin’s head fell, pulling Mako close. Mako didn’t say anything, he cradled his brother and let him cry into his chest until they were both in tears together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Yeah, Bolin's not having the best time...
> 
> Anyway! As always, if you're enjoying the story, want to make a suggestion on how to make it better, or just want to throw something out, feel free to comment!


	16. Chapter 15 - New Rules

**Chapter 15 - New Rules**

* * *

In a small farmhouse in the small harbor town of Le Havre, a trio of individuals met in an abandoned church. “These are some impressive actions,” the blonde woman said, grinning as she kicked her shapely legs up on the pew in front of her. “Especially considering we haven’t even contacted them yet.”

“They still have him around,” the Scot said, waving one of the pictures about. “That’s the bloody problem.”

“Or the solution,” the blonde said, grinning. “We should count our blessings, his being there only adds to the destructive potential of the Resistance in Paris.”

“Not if it means working with one of his type,” the Scot growled. “We were sent here to create links to the French, not _them_. Don’t let your time in bed with the bastard colour how we carry out our operations.”

“And what would you know about his being in bed with me,” the blonde said, part-flirtatious and part-warning. “Jealous?”

“Settle, both of you,” the man standing behind the altar said in his posh voice. “Mr. Devlin’s connection to those individuals is long severed, he has little more loyalty to them than he would to the Fuhrer. No, what concerns me are the other individuals.”

“London can’t find any information on any of them,” the Scot said. “The OSS have denied their existence so hard they can’t be lying.”

“Or they are, and don’t want us moving on an operation they feel invested in.” The blonde rolled her bright blue eyes and rose from the pew. “Let me contact them, try to get some decent information from Sean at least. As mentioned, our previous ‘history’ with each other may become useful.”

“I’ll allow it then,” the posh-voiced man said, narrowing his eyes. “Take a measure of these Americans. Even if they aren’t who they say they are, we can make good use of their actions in our stead.”

* * *

Al and Asami sat in the alley with the MALPs, waiting for the portal to open up. Asami looked nervous, wringing her hands as she waited for contact from the SGC. Al looked over, finally asking, “Worried about Bolin?”

“Yeah,” Asami said, running a hand through her hair. “Sometimes he’ll take things a little too seriously, but I’ve never seen him fight with Mako like that. I mean I know siblings can have fights with each other, but that was something else.”

“Brother and I have had plenty of fights like that,” Al said, smiling a little as he looked up to the white clouds above. “Once I was convinced that I wasn’t real, only an artificial creation he made to serve him. We wound up fighting on the roof of the hospital he was in after that, that’s when he managed to beat it into me that I was letting my fears run wild.”

“Must be nice having siblings,” Asami said, leaning against one of the ruined walls. “It was only my dad and I when I was a kid. He was always busy with work too, so I was usually on my own. Meeting Mako, getting to know the three of them? It was the first time I was ever really close with someone that I wasn’t related to.”

Al nodded, then turned his eyes to Asami. “Should we worry about sending Bolin home, even if we do stay?”

“I don’t know,” Asami whispered. “Even with Mako putting some sense back into him, he’s still not well. Being around all these Nazis can’t be helping him after what he found out about what Kuvira was eventually going to do.”

“Then he needs to either start controlling himself or stay away from the fighting,” Al said. “If he isn’t willing to listen to anyone else when he’s fighting, he’s putting himself and everyone else in danger.”

“What about you,” Asami said, the words cutting Al to the core. “Would you leave?”

Al shut his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve never left my friends in trouble before, and I don’t like the idea of doing it now.”

Asami was silent for a minute, then said, “I didn’t know what it was like, the first time it happened. Maybe I got lucky, because I knew that the person I shot was going to kill us if I didn’t act.”

“You still didn’t like it,” Al said. “When you confronted Natsu, you said that you did everything but say you hated yourself for what you did.”

“No, I didn’t like it,” Asami said. “Col. Mackenzie said that if I didn’t have any problems, he’d have been worried. The fact that I wish there was another way means that I’m processing it in a healthy way.”

Al looked up. “You mean you’re still trying to understand what happened?”

“So is Mako,” Asami said. “He was the first one of us, the first one to kill someone. He said that when he did it, it was a choice between him and her.”

“But that’s not the choice I had,” Al said, turning away. “Those men weren’t trying to kill me, they were doing their jobs.”

“Then what was their job Al,” Asami said, staring at him. “They were bodyguards. I heard the Resistance talking about the kind of man that Nazi was. You think that because someone’s not trying to kill you yet, that they aren’t a threat to your life?”

“I don’t know,” Al groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “I read in a novel once that when you kill someone, it’s easier the next time. I can’t imagine it ever being easy to kill someone.”

“It isn’t,” Asami said, her voice now filled with a solid conviction. “I don’t like having to kill these people Al, any more that you do. That’s the problem though, if we don’t fight back we’ll put ourselves in danger. If you don’t have your alchemy, and Korra doesn’t have her bending, how are we supposed to survive here?”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t help,” Al said, not looking up as he spoke. “I don’t want to leave these people to the Nazis any more than Bolin does. That doesn’t mean I want to spend the time we spend here going out and killing people each night.”

“It’s not going to change the fact that the Nazis are here,” Asami said. “Bolin might not want to leave, but it’s like you’re facing the opposite problem. You want to leave and ignore how uncomfortable this makes you feel.”

“Can you blame me,” Al said, leaning his head against the ruined wall again. “How am I supposed to feel after I’ve killed people?”

“You’ll have to ask Col. Mackenzie,” Asami said, looking up as the portal opened and the MALP camera started to move. “Gen. Hammond,” she said, stepping in front of the camera. “We have some updates.”

* * *

Havoc read over the notes the SGC had sent back, the teams gathered at a table in front of the stage at the Belle. “Well, we can confirm that this world isn’t remotely related to the history of SG-1, MV-4, 6, or 8. The zeppelins are what threw them off, in their histories the Nazis never used them in any of their military campaigns. Everything else sounds about the same though, from what they’ve put together. They said we’re doing some good work with the Resistance, but that they should have a test ready in another week to get us back.”

Everyone at the table seemed to relax, sighing as they realized they might be leaving soon. Bolin and Al were at total polar opposites; Al sighing and sliding down in his chair with relief as Bolin forced a nod and smile.

Havoc kept reading and said, “Gen. Hammond said that he doesn’t want us leave the Resistance hanging either, that we should at least endeavor to leave them in a strong position before then.” Bolin and Al’s expressions swapped at that. “Breda, Mako, keep a stock of our equipment. If we need to leave, I want you to grab it all and get ready to leave. Everyone else, stay relaxed when you can. The Nazis must be reeling from the hits we gave them, but things will pick up again when they reorganize. We’ll take a few more days, go get something to eat. Bolin, Al, wait a second?”

Bolin and Al looked at each other, everyone else speeding away as Havoc lit up another terrible cigarette. “So, neither one of you is doing too well here.” The pair shrank on themselves, Havoc blowing out a plume of smoke. “I don’t want to have to keep either one of you in the sheep pen, but I need to know that I can still count on both of you to remain controlled.”

“That’s fair,” Bolin said, sighing. “Mako and I already had a talk about it.”

“I know, the whole Belle heard you two talking about it,” Havoc said. “If you’re gonna fight these bastards, you’ll do it the right way, got it? You’ll still need some time to recover, but once you’re back I don’t want to hear any more problems with you sticking to a plan.” Bolin nodded, and Havoc didn’t press. He’d already faced enough thanks to his fight with Mako.

“As for you,” Havoc said, turning to Al. “You need to understand that we are stuck in a bad situation. You didn’t oppose fighting the Nazis when we first got here, not until you were the one pulling the trigger. This is the exact situation the SGC had us train with those weapons for, and if you aren’t able to remain resilient for it you’ve turned into a liability for the team while we’re stuck here.”

Al hadn’t expected Havoc to be so blunt with him. He was still used to Mustang’s squad treating him like a kid, and now Havoc was talking to him like he was a fellow soldier. “I’m sorry.”

Havoc sighed, tapping the ash off the end of the cigarette. “Look, it’s obvious that going out and fighting the Nazis isn’t for you. So, I’m gonna put you with Luc. Help him organize the Resistance, tell him you’ll send any supply requests to the US and do what you can to get the equipment we need. The less we need to go to Santos, the better.”

Al nodded, feeling like he’d been punished for his actions. As Havoc rose (With noticeable wincing and grunting thanks to the burns) and walked off with Bolin, Al remained at the table.

“You look troubled, _cherie_ ,” Collette said, sliding into one of the empty chairs opposite Al. “Another long night?”

“Long two weeks really,” Al groaned. “I don’t think Havoc trusts me anymore.”

“Why shouldn’t he,” Collette said, dropping her seductive airs. “Did something happen?”

“It’s, well, I just…” Al struggled to find the words, wheels spinning as he tried to imagine what to say. “Two weeks ago, I was with Luc when he assassinated someone.”

“ _Oui_ , we heard of that swine from our customers,” Collette said, sneering at the mention of the man. “You did the city a favor, helping Luc kill that filth.”

Al groaned, gripping the sides of his head. “That’s it, that’s the problem! Everyone keeps saying that it’s a good thing to kill these Nazis, but aren’t they people? Don’t they deserve to live too?”

“No one 'deserves' to live,” Collette said, almost spitting at the thought. “Why should they after everything they’ve done to us? The man that Luc killed, he was a pig. A sadistic, brutal, raping dog of a man. You did the entire city a service when you put him down.”

“I didn’t kill him though,” Al said, the fight gone from his voice. “I killed two of his bodyguards, men who hadn’t done anything like that.”

“They guarded him as he did his deeds,” Collette said, sneering at the thought. “We know what he had done before he was killed. Those guards let him do it, regardless of if they realized it was a crime. They stood by as those women begged for mercy, as they were violated. If the Nazis would not punish him, who would?”

“But hate only breeds hate,” Al said, but there was no conviction in his voice. The words rang hollow, like a wooden horse lacking Greeks. “If this is how the Resistance carries out its war what does that make us?”

Collette rolled her eyes. “Why shouldn’t we hate them,” she spat, glaring at the table. “They treat us like animals, any girl here who tries to stand for themselves is beaten. Before the Rousseaus would throw them to the street, but they rule France, so what can be done?”

“But then you have to answer for killing them,” Al said, knowing he was throwing out repackaged arguments he’d tried before. “You have to live with knowing you took someone’s life.”

“Ah, I see now,” Collette said, sounding disappointed as she rose from the chair. “You’re the type of man who’d prefer to see himself stainless as others around him dirty themselves.” Al’s head jerked toward Collette, but she was already countering his argument. “If you were so worried about not killing _bosche_ , why did you come on this journey? Did you think you would avoid killing in the middle of a war?”

“I’ve never had to kill anyone before,” Al whispered. “I’ve always been able to find another way.”

“Until now,” Collette said, sighing as she turned away. Al was left staring at the empty table, trying to understand what he was going to do next.

* * *

“ _Pardon es moi?_ ” Asami turned around to see Veronique coming up behind her on the second floor in the Belle. “I’m sorry, but I need your help. Asami, right?”

“Yeah,” Asami said, smiling as Veronique came up to her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Veronique said, though her shaking voice betrayed some nervousness. “I was wondering if I could ask for your help?”

“Sure,” Asami said. “I’ll get Havoc and -- ”

“You misunderstand, I’m asking _you_ for help,” Veronique said. “I have to deliver a package from one of our men. Seeing as you’re already a skilled driver, I was hoping you would be willing to assist me?”

“Oh,” Asami said, feeling a sudden nervousness shoot up her neck. “We’re just delivering something then? No gun battles, no dodging bullets, just there and back?”

“Exactly that,” Veronique said, already starting to move for the door. “We should leave now, this is something we can’t hesitate for.”

“Let me tell Korra and Havoc -- ”

“ _Non_ ,” Veronique said, grabbing Asami’s arm. “This is a vital operation for the Resistance, we must go now.”

Years ago, Asami would’ve been convinced by the grab, the look in Veronique’s eyes that told her to come along without telling anyone. That young, naive Asami Sato would’ve gone along without a second thought.

Asami Sato, CEO of Future Industries and member of MV-3, wasn’t that stupid.

“No, we’re letting someone know,” Asami said, pulling away. “It’s dangerous to try and go on a mission like this without telling someone what’s happening,” She paused, narrowing her eyes at Veronique. “Unless you want to tell me more about what we’re about to do.”

Veronique looked away, shaking her head at being caught. “Luc has a bomb, one for the Palais Royale. They’re trying to salvage what they can from the building. Eliminating the commander charged with recovering the supplies from the courtyard would further damage the Nazi’s efforts.”

“Then why not tell me that,” Asami said. “And why not ask Sean? He’s a driver too, isn’t he?”

“Sean would think he could stop me,” Veronique said. “He will endanger himself without hesitation, but thinks he needs to protect me from the world. Luc would have me stay behind as well, but the Nazis would not suspect a woman to be the one to deliver a bomb. The commander has a softness for them. Bringing him a gift of wine and cheese? He would not suspect a thing.”

Asami’s stance softened as she thought about the plan. “Alright, fine. But make sure the bomb is set with enough time to get us out of the area? I don’t want to have to drive like crazy through the city again.”

“Of course,” Veronique said, her expression lightening a little. “Tell Havoc what’s going to happen, I will get us a car to make the delivery.” Asami nodded, moving to Havoc’s room as Veronique went to the stairs.

Knocking on the door, she heard a strained, “C’min.” Cracking the door, she peeked her head inside and saw Havoc laying flat on the bed, shirtless with healing burns scattered across his back and arms. “What’s it now, Asami?”

“Veronique is delivering a bomb to the Nazi officer trying to salvage the Palais Royale,” Asami said. “What do you think, should we risk it?”

Havoc thought for a minute, before he pulled his head up from the pillow. “In and out, no gun battles and no screwing around. Drop the bomb off, then get back to La Villette.”

“Got it,” Asami said, grinning. “How’s the back?”

“I want to say I know how Hawkeye feels,” Havoc said. “Only I’m sure she’d hurt me if I ever said that.”

Asami chuckled, shutting the door as she left the room.

* * *

It was a short drive to the bombmaker to get the explosives, Veronique coming out of the rathole apartment with a wicker basket you’d more likely see for a picnic than deliver a bomb. “Alright, we’re ready,” she said, Asami putting the car in gear. “Thank you for this. Hopefully it will be another blow to the Nazis.”

“Anything to help,” Asami said, guiding the car back onto the streets. “Luc healed up pretty quick after he was wounded. You’re a great doctor if you worked that fast.”

“ _Non_ , Luc is a strong man,” Veronique said. “His name is already spreading in whispers through Paris, they call him _Le héros de la Villette_.”

“Nice title,” Asami said, rolling across a bridge to Canal St. Martin. “Kinda leaves out the rest of us though.”

Veronique smiled as he looked to Asami. “Jealous?”

“Hmm, maybe,” Asami said. “Still, he is willing to do the work along with us. I can appreciate that. Don’t know why he’s involved in the Resistance, though.”

“It was what the Nazis did to him,” Veronique said, shifting the basket in her lap. “The Gestapo claimed that his books were subversive, that they were a cultural threat and had any they could find burned. Why would it surprise you that he wishes to fight the people who destroyed his life?”

“Because I can tell he’s the rich type,” Asami said. “His hair, the way he talks, how he dresses? You can tell a lot about a person from the little things. I guess they took away all his money too?”

“Then you shouldn’t be surprised that this spurred him into action,” Veronique said.

“Can’t blame him,” Asami said. “I’d hate anyone that ruined my life too.”

“You’re wrong,’ Veronique said, her voice sounding like how Tenzin would talk about a revered monk. “Luc doesn’t fight for hate. He fights the Nazis because he loves his country.”

“You’re sure?” Asami asked, slowing as a Nazi foot patrol moved across the street. “My father probably told himself the same thing when he got involved with a group like the Nazis. They said they wanted to stop people from destroying their lives, but in the end? It was all about making the people they hated pay.”

“Perhaps there are people like that in the Resistance, but not Luc,” Veronique said. “His goal is to free France from the Nazis and their rule. We would be lucky if even half the men in Paris felt the same way.”

“Like Sean?”

“Hmpf!” Veronique turned her head away at the mention of the name. “While I was mourning my brother, he was still happy enough to find his own fun every night. The girls at the Belle couldn’t stop talking about how often he would drink them under the blankets.”

Asami blinked as she rolled through the intersection. “Uh, don’t you mean table?”

“I know what I said.” Even with her annoyed tone, Veronique’s face didn’t hide the pain she felt. “It was like losing Jules didn’t even affect him.”

“I know I don’t know you all that well,” Asami said, sighing. “But maybe that was how he felt he needed to move past it.” Veronique didn’t answer as they drove on.

The front of the Palais Royale was in shambles, the windows shattered and the walls scorched from the explosions and fires. Nazi soldiers stood outside on guard, and an armored car standing by outside the front gates. Sounds of scraping metal and moving cranes echoed from the courtyard, trucks laden with scrap metal rolling out as they pulled up.

A soldier held up a hand, Asami rolling to a stop as Veronique rolled down the window. “Papers?”

Veronique held out a small booklet and said, “I was asked to bring this for Col. Straub. He said to bring it to him personally?”

The soldier rolled his eyes. “ _Verdammt._ The colonel isn’t here now, he’s at the offices on the street over there.” The soldier pointed behind the car. “Drive alongside the fence, you’ll know the office when you see it.”

“ _Merci,_ ” Veronique said, nodding to the soldier. Asami waited for the trucks to drive on before she pulled into the street again. “ _Merde,_ I was hoping to deliver this inside the _palais._ ”

“Destroying the offices along with taking out a colonel isn’t bad though,” Asami said. “Armies run on paperwork and the people who handle it, right? This might set them back even further, since they have to put that office back together.”

“Very well,” Veronique said, and after a few minutes Asami pulled in front of the office. The soldier was right, the office was obvious. It was bedecked in two Nazi banners, with two soldiers standing guard out front.

“Alright, I’m going in,” Veronique said, taking the basket in hand.

“Hey,” Asami said as Veronique stepped out. “That things set in minutes, right?”

Veronique blinked. “Do I look crazy?”

“Just making sure,” Asami said. “Good luck.”

Veronique nodded, walking to the guards. She showed them her papers and used the same excuse, the guards falling for a cute face and innocent smile. They waved her through to the door, letting her pass without even searching the basket. Asami tried to look nonchalant, watching from the corner of her eye as Veronique played innocent and was waved through. At least this time there were no Nazis trying to get her to roll down the window.

The knock on the window made Asami jump out of her skin, and to her shock she saw Sean standing on the sidewalk. “What are you doing,” she hissed, glaring at the Irishman. “I thought you were at the Belle!”

“Had to check on a lady friend of mine that lives near here,” Sean said, a lecherous grin on his face. “Question I have is why are you here? Dropping off another delivery?”

“Yes, and you need to get out of here before -- ”

Sean looked up, his smile vanishing. “Bloody hell, what’s Veronique doing here?”

“Oh, get in the car,” Asami barked, hearing footsteps hurry up to the passenger door.

“Sean?” Veronique didn’t open the door, standing slack-jawed in the street. “What are you -- ”

“Both of you get in,” Asami hissed. The pair did, and Asami started pulling away. Hopefully they’d be back at La Villette before –

Asami blanched as the front of the offices exploded. “Spirits, c’mon!”

As the car leapt forward, Sean leaned between the front seats. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Luc had you deliver a bomb!”

“ _I_ delivered a bomb,” Veronique said, glaring at Sean. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d try to stop me!”

“You’re damn right stop you,” Sean growled, leaning with the car as Asami veered right to dodge a Nazi patrol car. “This isn’t your fight!”

“You’re wrong,” Veronique said, turning on Sean. “They made it my fight when I murdered my brother! I volunteered for this!”

“Looks like you volunteered the three of us,” Sean barked as he turned to Asami. “Did you know about this?”

“Can’t talk, driving!” Asami cut the wheel left, the car skidding across the cobblestones as the sirens closed in. “Dammit, this thing’s slow. Sean, do you have any weapons?”

Sean drew a pistol from his coat and broke the rear window open. “How’d you let her convince you to go along with this?”

“She said it was something important for the Resistance,” Asami said. “You know, the people we’re all fighting with?”

“That doesn’t give you the right to put her in danger,” Sean barked. “Bloody Americans, you’re all insane!”

Asami was going to argue back when a burst of machine gun fire cut along the buildings to her left. Looking in the rearview, she saw that the Nazi patrol cars had a new addition. Instead of being filled with solders, they had a mounted gun.

“Shit, bastards are armed now,” Sean grunted, ducking back into the car. “Get moving gorgeous, unless you want to get back to America leaking like a sieve.”

Asami didn’t answer, she focused on the streets ahead. She swerved around the intersections of Paris, sliding across the stones with squealing tires and roaring engine. The patrol cars kept coming, firing bursts to try and take out her wheels. Asami tried to keep her head low, but had to keep some of her eye on the road ahead. Which was why she felt the color drain from her face at the sight of two motorcycles roaring toward her firing their machine guns mounted on sidecars.

Without options, Asami did the only thing she could and floored the pedal.

The motorcycles kept charging, but that was the thing about a game of chicken: Eventually somebody flinches. One of the bikes veered right down an empty street. The other went left, but didn’t realize one of the patrol cars had tried to move up the side. The men in both vehicles screamed as they collided, the riders on the bike flying through the air as the patrol car skidded to a halt on two flat front tires.

That left two cars and one motorcycle. Sean kept firing from the back of the car, but it was clear he wasn’t doing much. “Bollocks, we need a cannon of our own for this thing.”

Asami agreed, but now wasn’t the time to wish for miracles. She turned left, moving for a boulevard. A trio of Nazis on foot patrol saw the car speeding down the street, raising their rifles at the car. Asami hauled the car onto the sidewalk, civilians scattering as she bore down on the trio. The Nazis screamed out, diving into the road to avoid being run over. Until they were crushed in a row by one of the two patrol cars still in pursuit.

Veering onto the boulevard, Asami saw nothing but civilian cars ahead. She thought she was clear, until she had to dodge right from a burst of rounds from up ahead. Peeking ahead from behind the wheel, she saw a Nazi cargo truck, lacking its canvas top but making up for it with a machine gun on the back. “Argh! Seriously, even those things?”

“Well, it looks like nowhere is safe,” Veronique said, turning back to glare at Sean. “It’s almost like it doesn’t matter where I am, I’m always going to be in danger!”

“That’s not what I’m worried about dammit,” Sean barked, glaring at the Frenchwoman. “Don’t go twisting my words!”

Asami swerved left and right, trying to throw off the aim of the four machine guns pointed at her. “Can you both shut up!”

“That is so typical of you,” Veronique growled, ignoring Asami. “This is the same attitude that got Jules killed!”

“Don’t go throwing that at me,” Sean shouted, firing off several shots at the pursuing Nazis. “Jules was like a brother to me!”

“And he was my _actual_ brother!” Veronique was nearly out of her seat now, looking ready to kill Sean. “Don’t act like you were the only one that had to face his death!”

Asami started to tune the pair out, they weren’t going to be any help anymore. Staring ahead, she saw the civilian cars scattering away from the gunfight around them. The truck ahead was getting closer and closer, and the patrol cars and motorcycle were gaining from behind. The car she was in only had three gears, and was barely faster than Naga after a meal.

“ _Fine,_ ” Asami thought. “ _Time to play rough._ ”

She shifted gears and dropped back, enticing the cargo truck farther and farther as she swerved and dodged. Checking the rearview, she saw the pursuing cars get closer until a round shattered the mirror. Gritting her teeth, Asami shifted back up. She rammed the back of the cargo truck, throwing the gunner in the back off-balance as he squeezed the trigger. The barrel went right, the gun buzzing as the rounds cut through one of the pursuing cars. Seeing a chance, Asami cut the wheel and sent the car into a spin. “Sean! Now!” Sean was at the back window, firing his pistol and catching the Nazi in the back of the truck in the chest. Two down.

Gunning the engine, Asami skidded to a stop and shouted, “In the patrol car, now!” The three jumped out of the rust bucket, Asami throwing the dead Nazi out of the front and jumping in the blood-stained driver’s seat. Veronique clambered into the passenger side as Sean manned the gun. Asami gunned the engine, starting to pull away until she heard Sean curse. “Fuck, the gun can’t turn around!”

“Are you _kidding me right now!_ ” Asami roared. She turned the car around so it faced the oncoming pursuers, the motorcycle and patrol car firing as they went. Shifting to reverse, Asami slammed on the gas and shouted, “Do it!”

Sean grinned, training the machine gun on the motorcycle. The burst cut through the pair of Nazis on it, the bike flipping as the driver jerked his arms in death. With Asami looking over her shoulder as she drove, Sean fired another burst at the last patrol car. The driver tried to dodge around the fire, but one of the bursts hit the right front tire. The driver corrected too late, the car careening right into a milk truck. Shifting back into first gear, Asami roared ahead as Sean finished off the Nazis.

“Nice driving,” Sean said, laughing as he sat down. “You should ask Vittore for a job after this is all over.”

Hair flying wild in the wind, eyes wild from the chase through the city, Asami shouted, “You’re delivering the next bomb, not me!”

Stashing the stolen patrol car with Santos’ man at La Villette, Asami stormed into the basement and made a beeline for Luc. “Ah, Asami,” he said, smiling. “I trust the bomb was delivered?”

“Oh it was delivered alright,” Asami growled. “Your people set it too short, again! And the Nazi patrol vehicles are all armed now, so guess what we just had to deal with!”

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” Luc said, looking shocked. “We will have to be more careful in the future. I am sorry, if I had known I wouldn’t have asked Veronique to have you accompany Sean to deliver the bomb.”

“Yeah, well…Wait, Sean?” Asami and Sean looked at each other. “What are you talking about?”

“He was the one who delivered the bomb, no?” Luc looked between the three, confused. “I’m sorry, I seem to have missed something.”

“I delivered the bomb,” Veronique said, looking to the floor. “I felt like I needed to do more for the cause.”

“Jesus, that wasn’t your call to make,” Sean said. “You nearly got yourself killed.” Sean turned to Luc, and noticed the man wasn’t looking too broken up about the situation. “Oh, and you’re fine with women doing your dirty work?”

“I will not turn down such aid,” Luc said. “Those who fight for our cause are patriots.”

“You know, I can’t stand that word,” Sean hissed. “I’ve heard it all my life from men with fresh blood on their hands.”

“They are not the ones in this war,” Luc said, his tone growing angry. “We don’t have uniforms or rules. Each one of us must be ready to do whatever is necessary.”

“Dammit, I already lost her brother,” Sean shouted, Asami staying back and letting the two go at it. “I’ll be damned if I lose Veronique as well, she’ll have no part in this!”

“How dare you,” Veronique said, stepping into the verbal melee. “Jules was his own man, and I am my own woman. Do not think you can tell me what to do!” She turned and glared at Luc. “Either of you.”

The four were left glaring at each other, until Sean pointed at Luc and said, “Count your enemies Luc. If anything happens to her? You’ll have made one too many.”

Luc glared at Sean, then turned away and went back to the map. Veronique glared at Sean and stormed toward the door. Sean glared at both of them, and stormed to the door himself. Asami, exhausted and feeling the weight of her body now that the adrenaline was fading, shuffled to the bed in the basement and collapsed.

* * *

It was the next day when Havoc went into La Villette, standing in the curtained off section with Luc. “I thought I told you to let us know when you were gonna use my people for an attack.”

“That was not my doing,” Luc said. “However, I am the one who ordered the operation. It is my fault, and I take responsibility for it.”

Havoc nodded, lighting up. They were doing this away from the rest of the Resistance, Havoc didn’t want this to turn into a situation that could undermine Luc’s command. “I’m not gonna let this happen again, understand? That’s why Al is gonna help you organize all this. It’s still your operation, but he’ll make sure I’m not sending my people on any more suicide missions.”

“Very well,” Luc said, bowing his head in acceptance. “I was in need of some help anyway. I have had messages from other fighters deeper in the city. The Resistance is growing, and I cannot handle these responsibilities alone.”

“Some delegation might be a good idea,” Havoc said, taking a long drag of the terrible cigarette. “What Veronique did means you’re losing some operational control. I can understand your methods, but if you let your people run wild you’ll be easy targets when the Nazis decide to come calling.”

“Also fair,” Luc said. “I will order my men to hold off on further actions. Le Crochet is still training our new fighters, and Fr. Denis is waiting for his fellow priests to make contact with these other groups. We will let the Nazis grow complacent, and strike anew.”

As Havoc glared at Luc, he heard footsteps coming up from behind. Turning, he saw Sean walking up with the same grin Santos always had on. “What’s got you in a good mood?”

“An old friend of mine decided to send me a letter,” Sean said, holding up a pink piece of paper ringed with lace. “See for yourself.”

Havoc took the note and read, “ _A little bird told me you’d found your way to Paris. Imagine my delight when I learned I’d be nearby on business for a few days. I’ve booked a lovely flat, but the bed is terribly large and lonely. I do hope you’ll pop by for a drink. Love, Skylar._ ” To top it all off, there was a kiss planted at the bottom right in red lipstick.

“Sounds like quite the invitation,” Havoc said, handing the note to Luc. “Think she’d mind if you brought a friend or two along?”

Sean chuckled and said, “Knowing Skylar, she’d love a few extra hands. Among other things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! We're still rolling along with the story, and still reveling in the fine tradition of reminding the world that the Nazis were fucking morons. There's a cover in progress for this story too, expect it to appear in about ten-twelve chapters. I've already seen the sketch, and it's damn good. As always, feel free to leave a comment on what you like, what needs more work, or just if you want to mention anything.
> 
> Stay tuned, more on the way!


	17. Chapter 16 - Le Havre

**Chapter 16 - Le Havre**

* * *

Korra leaned back as Sean drove the car down the rural backroads of France, the country air filling her nose as she and Havoc let someone else do the work for a change. They were to go to the place mentioned on the back of the note, a hotel in the city of Le Havre.

“So, this Skylar woman,” Havoc said, sticking his cigarette out the window to get rid of the ash. “How’d you meet her?”

“Was right after I left Ireland,” Sean said, smiling as he held the wheel. “It was outside Brighton, summer of ‘24. Her family was on holiday, and I was trying to pick up some work to make it to the continent. One thing led to another, you know how it is.”

Havoc grinned and nodded. “Sounds like quite the blossoming of friendship.”

“Oh aye,” Sean said, his voice matching his face for how lecherous it was. “Eventually we started meeting up around the racing circuit. She has a thing for fast cars and dangerous men.”

“I need to buy a fast car,” Havoc said, his cigarette tilting up as he grinned. “Thing is, why’s she here?”

“My guess, she’s mixed up in something,” Sean said, the lecherous expression fading. “Thing is, I can’t figure what. Her family’s loaded, more money than God even. Why’d she be in France is something I can’t understand.”

Korra decided not to jump in on this conversation. Havoc was the military man, not her. She was only along as the team lead for MV-3, to give backup in case they needed it. Still, it was nice to get out of the city for a few hours. Paris wasn’t like Republic City, the streets were a haphazard maze weaving through the buildings. Here, there was wide open space and enough sky to satisfy a wandering mind.

Unfortunately, there was still a clear Nazi presence even in the countryside. Passing through smaller villages gave Korra clear views of their guard towers and sniper positions, along with armored cars and even tanks posted at the intersections. The larger villages had the speakers installed as well, Korra catching such great propaganda hits as, “ _THE FUHRER WELCOMES ALL SECOND-CLASS CITIZENS INTO THE REICH! PLEASE REPORT TO THE NEAREST POLITICAL OFFICE!_ ” After reading about what the Nazis had done in SG-1’s reports? Korra wondered if they couldn’t make a stop into one of those offices for some “redecorating”.

The rolling farmland was a definition of “picturesque”. Quiet orchards of fruit trees one moment, then rolling fields of grain the next. Every few miles there was pasture land, the “cows” that Korra had learned were the main source of meat in some worlds grazing idly behind barbed wire fences. Some of the fields had tractors rolling across them, the farmers checking their handiwork for the season. Korra remembered traveling through these kind of farmlands when she was wandering the Earth Kingdom, stopping to do odd jobs that the farms needed. It was a hard time, but the fresh food she took as payment made the effort worth it.

In time the farms gave way to the outskirts of a town. Soon the salty smell of the ocean drifted through the car, houses becoming more common as they came to paved roads. That meant more Nazi positions however, and soon they wound up hearing more stupid propaganda the further they drove into the city.

The _Hotel du Le Havre_ was a small building, Korra thought it looked more like a big house than a hotel. As seagulls called and ship horns blared, Sean parked the car on the opposite side of the street. “Nice little village they got here,” he said, grinning as he took in the sight of the hotel. “Even accounting for the jackboots.” Throwing his cigarette into the street, he led the way into the hotel.

There was a small desk with a registration book in the hall at the door, but that wasn’t where Sean looked as he walked inside. Korra followed his eyes right, and saw curves in all the right places next to a roaring fire. Pristine blonde hair hung in a ponytail over a bomber jacket and blue scarf, with trousers that hugged the woman’s hips and rear like they were skin tight. For a second Korra forgot that she was even on Earth until Sean started talking.

“Skylar St. Clair,” he said, his voice low as he walked up behind her. “I wondered what happened to you after Saarbrücken.

“I got out just before the shooting started,” she said, her voice seductive as Korra drank in a mixture of an angelic face and sinful bust, the tank top under the open jacket like it was only there for the sake of temptation rather than modesty. “One stop ahead of the Gestapo. I see you’ve made some new friends then?” She had two drinks in her hands, but she set them back down and turned around, grabbing two more glasses and a bottle of alcohol. “Sounds like you’ve made it through things unscathed.”

“We weren’t all so lucky,” Sean said, his voice turning bitter.

“Yes, I heard about Jules,” Skylar said, her voice turning sympathetic as she poured two more drinks. “I’m so very sorry Sean, I know how close you were.” Moving out of the way, she gestured for everyone to grab a drink. Sean nodded, taking one of the glasses. Korra and Havoc did the same, and raising their glasses, they drank. Korra wheezed for a second, it wasn’t as hard a hit as the whiskey but it still sent a shock through her system.

“You know it’s a funny thing,” Sean said, settling into the lone seat in the room. “Dierker, he had it in his head that Jules and I were working for the Brits.”

“Oh?” Skylar cocked an eyebrow, but Korra read it as more intrigued than confused. Or was she confused? Korra felt the glass get heavy in her hands. “How odd.”

“I reckon he had us mixed up with someone else. Someone who was…at that…race to spy…” Korra started to lose the thread of Sean’s words, but she couldn’t tell if that’s because he was slurring or because of the room spinning around her. She looked to Havoc, who spit his drink out on the floor.

“I see one of your friends is smarter than most,” Skylar said, Korra’s legs giving way and leaving her to crash to the floor. “That was always your problem Sean, you’re too clever for a grease monkey. Too clever by half.” Korra watched through clouded eyes as Skylar kept her eyes locked on Havoc.

Sean’s breathing started to labor. “You slipped us a mickey…why?”

Skylar shushed Sean, but didn’t move as she kept her eyes on Havoc. “Think of it as a job interview. A time to consider a new line of work.” That was the last thing Korra heard before she went unconscious.

Havoc glared at Skylar, keeping the glass in-hand. “Not a nice way to introduce yourself to someone.”

“Well you ruined what was supposed to be a quiet reunion between two close friends,” Skylar said, a smirk plastered across her face. “Don’t you think you’ve been a touch rude in all this?”

“Rude nothing,” Havoc said, still glaring at the threat in front of him. “I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with right now.”

“Another American in over their heads?” Skylar sighed and shook her head. “I think we know exactly who we’re dealing with.”

We. Havoc spun around, raising the glass in hand to smash it over whoever was coming. The problem was there was no one there. Before he could go back, Skylar had already wrapped a surprisingly strong arm around his neck. He felt the artery and vein on either side of his neck tighten, and desperate to get out he fell back onto the floor, hard.

“Nice try,” Skylar grunted, not letting go. “But you’d have to pound me down harder than that to make me lose focus.” Havoc wished very much that Skylar could have told him that line in _any_ other context, then he blacked out.

* * *

Havoc came back to the word to see he was in a chair in a church, stained glass windows shining in the night. The thing that told him there was something else afoot was the presence of several radios in the room, along with a map of a region Havoc didn’t recognize next to a map of Paris. He looked right and saw Sean and Korra in their own chairs, both starting to stir.

“Good evening, Mr. Devlin,” a posh voice said. Turning his heavy head, Havoc saw three people standing around a desk and several boarded up windows. Skylar was to the left, but the two new figures had his attention. One was a middle-aged man in coat and sweater. The man by the desk was more muscular, with a shorn head and an angry expression.

“Fuck you,” Sean whispered. “Limey bastard.”

“You all may call me ‘Bishop’,” he said, stepping forward. “Ms. St. Clair dosed you all with a mild paralytic. The hangover should be no worse than what you’re accustomed to.”

“In that case,” Sean said, starting to put the strength back in his voice. “Fuck you arseways.”

Bishop started to laugh, if condescendingly. “Ah yes, the famous Celtic charm. Small wonder your homeland is such a popular tourist destination.”

Sean glared at the man as he tried to sit up a little straighter. “I don’t get back much.”

“Perhaps that’s because you’re a wanted fugitive in your own country,” Bishop said, pulling a folder from behind his back and flipping through it. “I see you made quite a number of enemies back home. Quite a resume for a man of your age.” Shutting the folder, Bishop glanced at Havoc. “Were you aware of his history?”

“Course not,” Havoc grunted, rubbing at his forehead. “I’ve worked with plenty of criminal types. Sean’s no worse than some of the generals I’ve served with.”

“Given the performance of American generals in the field that doesn’t surprise me,” Bishop said, still going through the files. “Of course, we know about your father as well. Tell me, did you ever find out who started the fire?”

Sean’s expression shifted, turning into a quiet rage. “Who the fuck are you people?”

“We are a dagger at the enemy’s throat,” Bishop said, looking up and shutting the file. “And the time has come to start cutting.”

“Last time I checked,” Sean said, glaring straight back. “Your lot was losin’ the war.”

“Is that what you want Mr. Devlin,” Bishop said, his tone harsh as he stalked forward. “To see the world fall under the shadow of the Third Reich?” Havoc realized that even if Bishop didn’t look physically intimidating, there was a security in his motions. Even if they were all unbound, Havoc didn’t want to risk pressing a man that felt this confident in his control of the situation.

Sean looked away, avoiding Bishop’s eyes. “I didn’t think so,” the older man said, walking back to the desk.

“I’d see the Nazis burn in hell for what they done,” Sean finally said. “But you still haven’t told me why I’m sitting here.”

Bishop held up the file. “You’re here because I require a favor from you, Mr. Devlin. In exchange, I will see to it that your criminal record is wiped clean -- ”

“Not a chance,” Sean said.

“And!” Bishop said, walking to Sean’s side. “Deliver Kurt Dierker to you on a silver platter.”

Sean thought for a moment, Havoc watching as Sean’s head ran through the options before saying, “What is it you want done?”

“The Nazis have their forces digging in the Lechais cemetery in Paris. They have unearthed something in one of the crypts and are preparing to ship it to Berlin. I want that something here.” Grinning, Bishop rose up and turned his head toward Skylar. “Ms. St. Clair will provide whatever assistance you may require.”

Sean, not realizing to leave well enough alone, asked, “What’s it the Nazis found?”

“The contents of the find are none of your concern,” Bishop said. “Curiosity killed the cat, Mr. Devlin. The same can be said for indiscreet Irishmen and unlucky Americans.”

“Ha ha,” Sean said, rising from his chair and walking to Bishop. “You got yourself a deal. I’ll get that something. And what I get back, you tell me where I can find Dierker.”

Bishop held out his hand and said, “You have my word.”

Sean laughed and shook. “Well, we’ll find out what it’s worth.”

“Come on, I’ll get the car ready,” Skylar said, sauntering toward the door. “You can tell me all about how Paris has been while I’ve been gone.”

“Korra, go with’em,” Havoc said, glaring at Bishop. “I need to talk to our new friend here.” Korra nodded, groaning as she rose from her seat and followed Sean and Skylar to the door.

Bishop waited until the three of them were out of earshot before he said, “I must admit to some surprise at finding out your team was here,” Bishop said, playing coy. “We had only established ourselves in Le Havre, yet our French allies have told us that the resistance in Paris is being aided by a group of Americans.”

“We like to be at the forefront of things,” Havoc said, knowing full well that he was playing a game where the other side had a loaded deck without even realizing it. “Once we joined the war, we knew we had to make some fast decisions.”

“Fast and foolish,” Bishop said, glaring at Havoc. “So far, we’ve been lucky. The Nazis have all their eyes focused on Paris, leaving us free to create the infrastructure of our operations with relative ease. Still, you’ve left us in an uncomfortable position. Because of your actions in aiding the resistance in Paris, the forces in the countryside are demanding we step up ourselves.”

“Look, we came here with our mission,” Havoc said, leaning forward in his chair. He kept splitting his attentions between Bishop and the muscular man to the back. “As long as we’re here, we can keep the Nazis off your backs for your activities. Of course, we can also help you out from time to time. Our own network is lacking in actionable intelligence capabilities to the outside world. Having some ears and eyes to relay some things to us that we might not know? It could be helpful.”

Bishop glanced back to his man, who gave a nod. “Very well, perhaps such an agreement could work to our benefit Mr…?”

“Havoc,” he said, standing up. “Glad we can make an agreement.”

“Yes, it was quite the struggle to try and contact your leadership about this,” Bishop said, grinning as he shook Havoc’s hand. “They were quite adamant you didn’t exist.”

“Well, we can’t have the Nazis learning too much,” Havoc said, smiling back as he shook Bishop’s hand. “Keeping our channels secure is our primary priority. We can handle the Nazis in Paris, and wherever you might need help. In exchange we can handle getting the weapons to our people and leave your operations alone unless you want us.”

“At least you know how to make a decent offer,” Bishop said, nodding to Havoc. “Very well, we can consider the matter closed for now. So long as you live up to what you’re offering.”

“Guess you’ll find out after we bring back whatever it is you’re asking for,” Havoc said. “Once we get it back to you, maybe we can sit down and talk about a few things.”

“Best of luck, Mr. Havoc,” Bishop said. “You’ll need it.”

Walking out through the church, Havoc noted there were a few fighters in the building. They were busy checking supplies or praying, a few taking a moment’s rest laid out on the pews. The only difference between the church and the basement in La Villette was a better smell.

Outside, Havoc saw Sean and Korra standing next to their car alongside Skylar. Sean and Skylar were going on about a previous meeting in Monaco, while Korra tried her best to not let her blush take over her entire face. “Alright, we’re going back into the city,” Havoc said. “Think you two can keep your hands off each other on the way back?”

“As long as I get to drive,” Skylar said, sauntering over to the driver’s side. “Idle hands aren’t _just_ the Devil’s playthings.”

“You get used to her,” Sean said, elbowing Korra. The embarrassed avatar let out a small “Meep” before getting in the back.

* * *

“And here we are,” Sean said, Skylar pulling up to the Belle. “Go ‘round the back, we’ll park the car in the garage.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Skylar said, her tone playful. “You always did have a thing for fast women.”

Sean grinned and said, “Present company included?”

“I’m only fast behind the wheel,” Skylar said, pulling around the side of the building. “You know full well that I love to take my time.”

As Korra’s head started to steam, Havoc had gotten a decent feel for Skylar. They’d been at this kind of back and forth the entire ride, but didn’t show any signs of getting tired of it. There was a definite undercurrent to it as well. Sean’s smiles were genuine, and Skylar’s laughter never once sounded forced. There was a long history between the two, and that could be useful.

“Korra,” Havoc whispered. “Once we’re inside, go get Luc. Tell him we’ve made contact with the British and have an operation in play. Tell him to keep his people down until we get back to him. Then meet me at the front door.” Korra nodded, and as soon as they were out of the car she was moving through the Belle.

“Tell me Havoc,” Skylar said, grinning as she sauntered up to the man. “What do you think of France? It must be a change of pace from, I’m sorry, you never told me where you’re from.”

“Colorado Springs,” Havoc said, pulling out a fresh cigarette. “Nice little mountain town in Colorado. Ever heard of it?”

“I’m afraid not,” Skylar said, flipping her ponytail as she followed Sean to the door. “Perhaps I’ll have to visit sometime? I’m always willing to summit a tall peak.”

Havoc shrugged, lighting up his latest terrible Nazi-made cigarette. “I don’t usually go for innuendos lady. If that’s what helps you get through this work, go for it. Don’t expect me to play along though.”

Skylar’s smile shifted. It didn’t shrink or show offense. If anything, it grew more genuine. “Quite the gentleman you are, Havoc,” she said, moving through the door. “I do appreciate it.” Havoc couldn’t hold back a grin of his own at that.

Walking through the back of the Belle, Havoc saw Breda sitting on the bed loading fresh rounds into his shotgun. “Evenin’ fellas,” he said, setting the weapon aside. “This one of our new friends?”

“Loose use of the word,” Sean said.

“And that’s the only loose thing around here,” Skylar said, the banter roaring back. “And this is?”

“Breda.” The redheaded soldier held out a hand. “Nice to meet’cha. So, how many of us this time?”

“Only the four of us,” Havoc said. “Tell everyone else they should hold off for now, wait for us to get back.” Breda nodded, Havoc and Sean leading the way to the back of the Belle.

“Well, I can certainly understand why you shacked up here,” Skylar said, grinning as the trio walked through the dressing room. The girls all looked up, some shooting jealous looks to Skylar as others whispered to each other. “How do you manage to do anything in a day?”

“Certainly keeps a man on his toes,” Sean said, grinning as they walked through to the main room. The Nazis were already inside, drinking their fill but not quite drunk enough to be their usual rowdy and drunk selves. Staying inconspicuous, the trio made their way to the bar.

Korra was already there, turning as they walked up. “Veronique is gonna get word to Luc, she already left.”

“Probably for the best,” Sean said, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing at Skylar.

“Let’s get our gear then,” Havoc said, looking to Skylar. “You’ll need a weapon.”

“Already have one,” Skylar said, patting the side of her jacket. “After all, a girl should always carry protection.”

“Fair enough,” Havoc said. “Alright, where’s this cemetery?”


	18. Chapter 17 - Cimetière du Père-Lachaise

**Chapter 17 - Cimetière du Père-Lachaise**

* * *

Havoc and Korra stared up at the cemetery walls, both wondering why a cemetery needed this kind of protection. Going in the main gate wasn’t going to happen, not with half a dozen guards and an armored car. They were to the side of the cemetery, walking alongside the perimeter. Korra kept picking up a sickly-sweet scent coming out of the cemetery, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“According to our information, there should be a way inside the Nazis won’t think to guard,” Skylar said, pulling through some bushes at one of the walls. She smiled and pulled the bush back, revealing a worn drain for rainwater. “ _Et voila._ ”

“You’re just full of surprises darling,” Sean said, grinning. “What’re we looking for?”

“Whatever it is, the Nazis will need a heavy truck to move it, look underneath the crypt at the top of the hill” Skylar said. “I’ll get us the transportation, you three can handle a little cemetery full of Nazis, can’t you?”

“I’ll go with you on the truck,” Havoc said. “Korra, you go with Sean to get this something. We’ll grab a truck and wait here for you two.”

“I suppose I can leave you to behave yourself with another woman for a while,” Skylar said, grinning at Sean. “Try not to get that gorgeous bum of yours shot off.

“Same to you darling,” Sean said, smiling as Skylar and Havoc walked off. Crouching down, he shook his head and said, “Woman’s always got me crawling through mud for her.”

That was the end of any talking for a while as Korra snuck through the hole behind Sean. Sneaking through ankle-deep water, they came out on the other side behind a mausoleum and two SS guards.

“So,” one of the guards said. “I asked Heinrich about it.”

“Heinrich doesn’t know his ass from his lederhosen,” the other said.

“Maybe, but he was at the slaughterhouse when it happened.” As the pair talked, Sean motioned for Korra to stay quiet and keep low. “He said the Irishman was responsible.” Sean and Korra froze. The mention of “Irish” had them both trying to listen, even if they couldn’t comprehend yet.

“I knew it!”

“That French writer could never have pulled it off,” the first guard said. “No matter what people say.”

“Then that Irish whore’s son is going to be trouble for us, mark my words.”

The first guard chuckled and nodded. “You’ll have no argument from me.” That seemed to end the conversation, the first guard throwing down a cigarette and walking off. Sean waited until the first guard was out of sight before coming up behind the second guard and snapping his neck. Korra didn’t say anything, the look on Sean’s face told her not to.

Korra started to move behind Sean, but the sight of a bonfire caught her eye. “ _What? It isn’t that cold out, why are the Nazis having a bonfire?_ ” Looking over, Korra froze.

The bonfire wasn’t just wood. There were bodies in the flames. Korra’s eyes went wide, realizing what the sickly-sweet smell was.

“Bastards,” Sean whispered. “Can’t let people alone even when they’re dead.”

“Sean,” Korra whispered, eyes wide. “I don’t think they were dead for long.” Her eyes were locked on the fact that one of the bodies on the pyre had fresh bullet wounds to the chest. Sean said nothing else, but the fire in his eyes told Korra he was less than happy.

The cemetery proper was filled with small crypts and mausoleums, the “simpler” graves marked with massive stone covers. They were all marked with the “t” symbol, or occasionally a man atop the “t”. Some of them were broken open, bones and remains scattered about like they were nothing but rubbish to the Nazis. “ _Wait,_ ” Korra though, suffering another grim realization. “ _To the Nazis, they probably are, aren’t they?_ ”

“Up here,” Sean whispered, motioning Korra up the hill. Following his eyes, she saw he was moving toward a statue. Then realized it wasn’t the statue he was moving to, but the covered ladder next to it. Signaling her down, Korra slid down the ladder and landed in a worse situation.

The crypt was more than stonework and candles. Bodies lay set in the walls, bones and half-mummified remains of Paris’ previous citizens. Korra’s teeth started to chatter, being this close to a bunch of bodies was something that had never been brought up in her training to become the avatar.

“Oi,” Sean hissed, glaring at her. “The fuck’s wrong with you? It’s a fucking pile of bones, get ahold of yourself!” Shaking his head, Sean set off into the catacombs. Korra blinked and hurried after him, realizing she was about to be left alone with the remains.

* * *

Havoc waited with Skylar outside a Nazi refueling station, watching as a large transport truck sat as it refueled. “This is your plan,” Havoc groaned. “You realize how bad this can go wrong, right?”

“Well, you of all people should know how easily you can distract a young, fit soldier,” Skylar said, adjusting her tank top and jacket so her bust was even more pronounced. Which was certainly saying something. “Get out of the car and check the engine. Act like you don’t know what you’re doing, got it?”

Havoc groaned, finishing his cigarette and getting out of the car. Going to the hood, he popped open the side and played at staring at the engine. Skylar joined him for a second, then hurried over to the refueling point.

“Excuse me, sirs?” she called out, in near-perfect German. Berlin accent included. “My brother and I are having car trouble, and he’s practically useless with them.” The three soldiers at the refueling point looked up, focused on Skylar, and grinned. “ _That’s it, good boys,_ ” Skylar said, forcing herself not to grin. “ _Pay no attention to how improbable this situation is._ ”

“What is the problem miss,” one of the soldiers said, making his way toward Skylar.

“The engine’s running but the car won’t move,” she said, pouting a little. “Can you please help us? We were supposed to be to our hotel, but I’m afraid we’ll be late if we can’t hurry.”

“Yes, of course we can help,” one of the soldiers said, moving fast toward the car. “What hotel are you staying at?”

“The Hotel Caron,” she said, turning and making sure to sway her hips as she led the three toward the car. “I’m so grateful for your help sirs, we were worried we would be late.”

Havoc watched the three soldiers approach from the corner of his eye, but didn’t turn from the engine yet. They were all speaking German, and for all Havoc knew she was playing the same games with them she did with Sean on the way back.

“Brother,” Skylar said. “These men will help us with the car.” Havoc rose up and backed away.

“What’s wrong with him,” one of the soldiers said, staring at Havoc at the other two leaned over the car. “Is he some kind of idiot?”

Three shots, at a much lower sound than Havoc expected. Turning away from the three bodies, Havoc saw Skylar sliding a pistol back into her jacket. He thought there was a massive attachment on the end, but didn’t have a chance to see what it was before Skylar was already putting her tank top back to how it should be.

“We won’t have much time,” she said, moving for the truck. “By now Sean’s probably destroyed half the cemetery. We won’t outrun them in this beast either, any escape would be impossible.” Turning around, Skylar turned to a stunned Frenchman and moved to him. In near-perfect French she said, “Sir, I need your help. Go to the Belle de Nuit in Montmartre. Tell the bartender to send help for Havoc and Sean to the Porte Saint-Martin. Is that clear?” The man nodded, still in shock. Smiling, Skylar kicked the bodies away from the car and said, “Do that, you can keep the car.” The man’s face brightened up a little, and hopping in the driver’s seat he sped away to the north of the city.

“Do I even want to know what you asked,” Havoc said. “Or will I regret it?”

“Only if you don’t like accomplishing a mission,” Skylar said, putting the truck in gear. “We’re going to have to force our way in. I’d recommend biting those lovely lips of yours.”

* * *

Korra kept shuddering each time they passed a body. It didn’t help that in some of the recesses the bones were scattered about and left there. The air moaned through the rock and stone, shadows dancing in the torchlight and lanterns.

“The hell's the matter with you,” Sean said, stopping at another group of bodies. “One minute you’re making fresh bodies, and here you are worried about some bones?”

“It isn’t the bones I’m worried about,” Sean whispered.

“Oh, so it’s ghosts you’re afraid of,” Sean said, scoffing at Korra. “Don’t know if you noticed, but there’s no spirits down here.”

“ _You tell yourself that_ ,” Korra thought, following along behind Sean. “ _Wait until_ you _talk with Gen. Iroh, then tell me people can’t come back from the dead!_ ”

The tunnels wound and turned and curved about, Korra sure she heard scorpion-roaches scurrying about. That was when they ran into another Nazi. Well, found him leaned against a wall smoking. Crouching down, Sean crept up behind the man, near-silent as he reached out his arms. Yawning, the Nazis threw his cigarette behind him, hitting Sean’s hand. Korra worried that he would cry out, but Sean shook his hand once, then grabbed the Nazi’s neck. One snap later, no more Nazi. Sean picked up the man’s MP 40, then kept moving.

They came up on another ladder, Sean taking the lead as he handed the weapon to Korra. One second he came over the top of the ladder, the next a Nazi cried out before he landed in a heap on the stone floor.

Climbing up the ladder, Korra poked her head out and saw they were only halfway up the hill. Four Nazis stood at a juncture among the mausoleums, indistinctly talking as the clouds started to open up. Sean motioned for Korra to follow him behind the mausoleums, the rain covering their approach. The Nazis started to bitch about the rain, which was fine if it distracted them.

Korra knew what had to happen. Firing any gun was going to draw too much attention, they had to take out the Nazis fast and quiet. Of course, with four of them that wasn’t going to be easy. At least, until two of the Nazis turned away and went to a wrought-iron fence surrounding the section. Grinning, Sean moved left as Korra set her eyes on her target. The Nazi was older than she was, maybe by about ten years. He was stocky, but it wasn’t lean or bulk muscle. He’d started to let himself get fat, and Korra knew he’d go down after a few seconds of being choked out.

Checking to make sure the other two Nazis were still occupied at the fence, Korra moved forward. She saw Sean out of the corner of her eye sneaking up on his target. Satisfied that the Nazi wasn’t about to turn around on her, Korra moved up and –

A twig snapped beneath her foot.

The Nazi turned around, but before he could do anything Korra pulled him toward her and slammed her elbow into his nose. As the soldier groaned, Korra slammed him facedown into the cemetery dirt and pressed her arm against the side of his neck as her hand covered his mouth. The soldier tried to call out, but muffled against Korra’s hand all he could do was thrash in the rain as his eyes started to dim. Satisfied that he was out, Korra turned to see Sean dragging his man in between the mausoleums. Then, to her surprise, he hurried over to her. “Did you kill’im?”

Korra paused, then took a breath. She didn’t know if she’d ever killed anyone with a weapon, but she knew she had killed before. What she’d done to her uncle when he was possessed by Vaatu, no matter how she tried to imagine it, was ending his existence. He had died when she acted as the avatar. Other avatars had killed to, there wasn’t a taboo against it. Kyoshi, regarded as one of the greatest Avatars, had made no secret about her decisions to solve the worlds problems through direct action.

Here, Korra was bereft of her bending. If they left the soldier unconscious but alive, he could raise the alarm and get them both killed. If she died here, there was no promise that the avatar cycle would continue in her world, was there? Not if this dimension had no magic.

With her eyes on the Nazi’s unconscious face, she put one hand on his chin and the other on the back of his head. “ _I’m sorry,_ ” she thought. “ _At least you’re not going to feel this._ ” Keeping her eyes open, she twisted his neck. One less threat.

Rising up, Korra looked around and saw there were no other Nazis coming. That was when Sean had a confused look sweep across his face. “Your first?” Korra nodded, saying nothing. “Then you’d better be ready for your second.” Nodding again, Korra followed Sean to the next two Nazis.

Another body from Korra’s hands fell to the ground seconds later.

As Korra took a breath, she saw Sean grinning as he knelt down. “Stairs, looks like another entrance into the crypt. Are you coming? Or are you afraid of the skeletons?”

Korra glared at Sean as she moved past him into the crypt. “Go to hell.”

Even if she had decided to not take Sean’s bait, Korra still felt her skin crawl in the crypt. More bones waited for her, but the bigger problem was the sound of voices up ahead. Tossing Korra the MP 40, Sean drew a pistol from his satchel and nodded. Korra did the same. There was no missing, not at this range. Chambering a round, she followed Sean closer to the voices.

Two Nazis stood next to a trio of stone slabs, one already broken open. They chatted to each other, one lighting up a cigarette as the other leaned against the wall. The third was farther away, talking to another Nazi that was out of sight. Creeping down the crypt corridor, Sean nodded to Korra and counted down. Five…Four…Three…Two…One…

Korra sprayed the SMG across the opening, catching both Nazis. One clutched at his gut, the other collapsing as his right arm spurted blood. Sean rushed ahead and fired at the third Nazi, catching the soldier in the head. Still sprinting, Sean turned the corner and fired three more shots, cutting off a scream.

Following Sean, Korra saw there was a fourth Nazi further into the crypt. Sean had turned to see what Korra was doing, when Korra saw a gun barrel poking out of a doorway to the left. “Get down!” As Sean ducked, Korra unloaded on the door, the barrel shooting back inside. Gun up, Sean shifted himself closer to the door. He hugged the wall and peered around the corner, then pulled back. Nothing happened, and he slowly moved into the door. “Korra, cover the other way.” Korra nodded, turning toward the corridor away from the door and watching for movement.

Shouting, first in German, then English. There were sounds of a scuffle, but Korra didn’t move. She knew that if a Nazi got the drop on them, they’d be dead. She gritted her teeth, listening as the sounds of a fight echoed to her. Until there was a cut off shout, followed by shuffling feet.

“Let’s go,” Sean said. As he walked past Korra, she noticed him wipe the left side of his mouth clear of blood.

After a few minutes of moving through the tunnels, Korra felt cold air coming down. Following it, she and Sean came up on another flight of stairs. Weapons up, they crept up to the open air and looked around to see a hastily-erected guard tower and several Nazis scanning the area. There was another bonfire up ahead, a Nazi with a flamethrower lighting another pile of bodies. Glancing to the rear, there were three Nazis grouped together under a tree to stay out of the rain, and another farther down the path scanning the bottom of the hill.

“No getting around it then,” Sean said. “Time to fill some graves. You ready?” Korra said nothing, only checking that the SMG was functional.

Sean popped up and fired at the Nazi with the flamethrower, Korra turning around and spraying lead at the trio under the tree. Two of them went down, the third crying out and diving for cover. The flamethrower wasn’t so lucky, one of the rounds piercing his tanks. The stream of fluid spewed onto the bonfire, traveling back up the stream and detonating the cannisters.

Sprinting toward the top of the hill, Korra heard shouting on the right. Spinning around, she fired on a group of Nazis trying to come around from the back. Sean was busy firing on the front, sprinting up to a dead Nazi and grabbing his assault rifle. Rolling forward, he cut down a Nazi officer trying to rally his forces.

Korra sprinted up to him, Sean grabbing a grenade from a dead Nazi and throwing it inside the mausoleum on the top of the hill. The blast threw dust and debris out the front of the structure, Sean waiting until the smoke cleared before stepping in and mowing down anyone that was left.

Stepping through the front, the two saw there was a tomb to the left, an ornate stone slab of a shield and the “t” on it laying on the stairs up to it. A ladder was set up in the tomb, leading down into another section of the crypt. “What’s going on here,” Korra groaned. “Where is the underground in so many sections?”

“Someone doesn’t want this thing being found is my guess,” Sean said, slinging the rifle. “C’mon, they’ll be on us soon.” Rolling her eyes, Korra followed Sean down the ladder.

The pair sprinted down into the crypt, until they skidded to a halt at the sound of Nazi voices. They didn’t understand what the pair were saying again, but it sounded like a superior was telling a subordinate to stop asking questions. Raising his rifle, he glided down the crypt and found a large room filled with statues. And Nazis. As the Nazis mentioned something about a “Major Toht” in Nepal, Sean dropped to the floor and started firing. Korra leaned around and aided to the fire, watching as three of the Nazis dropped and the rest scattered for cover.

“Sean, cover me!” Korra sprinted into the room, ignoring the sculptures of men in armor bearing swords to run face-first into a Nazi. The man took a moment to process Korra was in front of him before he tried to swing his rifle butt at her. Korra had already grabbed the man, slamming the top of her head into his face before kicking out of cover. Sean cut him down, the soldier collapsing in a heap.

Korra was already looking for her next foe, and found it in the form of a Nazi with a flamethrower. The soldier was trying to adjust a nozzle on his weapon, but Korra sprinted up and kicked him in the chest. The man stumbled back, but Korra was already on him. Ripping off the gas mask on his face, she threw it at him and threw him off balance. Before he could clear his eyes Korra was already sending hit after hit to his face. The man collapsed, Korra sending him sprawling with a final kick to his face.

She could hear one of the Nazis still shouting, and ducking behind one of the statues she heard three firearms. Only one of them was focused on her, the other two were still firing toward Sean. Crouching down, she grabbed a pistol from the flamethrower soldier. Making sure it was loaded, she peeked around the statue and saw and officer and soldier firing at Sean as another soldier tried to kill her. The soldier stopped to reload, and Korra took her chance.

She ducked low and sprinted, holding the pistol up and firing. The soldier flinched, chips of stone flying off at him as he tried to duck away and reload. Before he could slide the magazine in place, Korra slammed the pistol into his nose and swept his legs out from under him. Grabbing his SMG, Korra raised it and fired at the last two Nazis, cutting them down. “Sean, clear!” As she heard Sean run in, Korra stared down at the man. Like Sean had said, any one of them left alive could be trouble later.

That didn’t mean Korra had to kill one of them that was already wounded. Before Sean could get into the room, she punched the Nazi hard between the eyes, knocking the man into a daze before she flipped him over and fired at the ground next to him.

“Last one?” Sean asked, running in.

“Last one,” Korra answered, looking around the crypt. There was a wooden crate in front of another stone tomb, the pair walking up to it.

“This must be the mystery prize,” Sean whispered, kneeling down in front of it and starting to lift the lid.

“Hey, what are you doing,” Korra hissed, slamming the top shut. “They said not to look at it!”

“What are you, my mother?” Sean stared at Korra like she was the crazy one. “Best we know what the Brits are after, wouldn’t you say?”

Korra kept her hand planted firmly on the lid of the crate. “We’re already fighting one war, why do you want to start another?”

“Your American friend is right,” Skylar said, sauntering into the crypt. “Bishop would be rather cross if you even peeked at his little present.”

Sean groaned, glaring at Korra but not raising an issue. “Fine, let’s get the bloody thing outta here then.” Getting on either side of the crate, Korra and Sean heaved and did their best to not drop the heavy cargo. Ignoring their straining muscles, the two made their way back to the ladder, Skylar following behind.

The Nazi soldier remained silent, wondering why he hadn’t been killed.

* * *

The bitch of the job had been hooking up the pulleys the Nazis had set up to hoist the crate out, and that had been blown to pieces by Sean’s grenade earlier. Following that, it was another long haul from the mausoleum to a waiting cargo truck, Havoc manning an MG on the back. “C’mon, I keep hearing shouts further down the hill!”

“Keep yer knickers on,” Sean said, Skylar pulling one of the sides down to let the two slide their cargo onto the bed. “I’ll drive, you lot keep them from killing us.”

“Korra, with me in the back,” Havoc said. “Crashing through the front gate got the Nazis a little angry.”

“Then they really won’t like what we did down there,” Korra said, pulling the gate back into place on the bed. Checking her weapon over, she shuddered as the truck started to roll.

Skylar leaned out of the passenger window, firing at the Nazis are they tried to rush up the hill at them. Of course, if she didn’t hit them, Sean was more than happy to run them down. Rounds bounced off the truck and the mausoleums, a once-quiet resting place of the dead turned into a free-for-all of the living. Swerving around an armored car parked at the shattered gates, Sean roared out onto the streets, the truck turning toward the north.

“Havoc, this thing’s as slow as an Omashu snail,” Korra shouted. “How are we supposed to escape these guys?”

“I think Skylar has a plan,” Havoc said, pointing the machine gun at a trio of oncoming patrol cars. “I’m just hoping it works!”

Groaning, Korra poked her head over the top of the cab and watched as Sean careened through the streets of Paris. The civilians scattered through the streets, screaming as gunfire erupted around them. The Nazis on patrol tried to fire at the truck, but between Skylar and Havoc they were dropped where they stood. The worst ones were the Nazis Sean managed to catch under his wheels, Korra shuddering as the truck bounced over their bodies.

Havoc wasn’t worried about that, he was more focused on the cars trying to catch them from behind. He caught one of the cars across the front windshield, spraying the driver’s brains on the gunner’s legs before the vehicle flipped sideways. The other two swerved and tried to avoid Havoc, but that made it harder for the gunners to actually aim and hit what they wanted. Windows shattered along the route, Havoc trying to keep as low a profile as he could behind the gun.

“Spirits, everyone’s here!” Havoc didn’t turn around, he had to keep focused on the patrol cars. Which was why he was surprised when both cars were hit by a hail of fire from ahead of the truck. Sensing it was safe to see what had happened, Havoc turned to see a collection of Resistance fighters and the rest of his team gathered under a stone arch in the middle of the street. Benches and tables hand been thrown into makeshift barricades, Breda and Falman busy rolling a car into position as the truck shuddered to a stop.

“Jeez Havoc,” Breda shouted, laughing as he took cover behind the car. “What’d you do, try to date _another_ general’s daughter?”

“Not now,” Havoc barked as Sean pulled the truck into the barricades. “How are we for rounds and fighters?”

“Plenty of both,” Falman said. “Ten Resistance plus everyone here. Mako and Bolin are watching the Belle in case something happens.”

More sirens and gunfire, approaching from all sides. “Right on time,” she shouted, drawing a massive revolver from the other side of her jacket. “Right lads, let’s get stuck in!” The Resistance cheered, screaming, “ _VIVE LA FRANCE!_ ”

Havoc grinned, staying on the gun that was now pointing at one of the few avenues of approach the Nazis had. As a truck full of soldiers came into view, he laid into the back with burst after burst. The men in the back shuddered as they were cut down, some falling over the sides as the truck turned into the side of a bakery.

“Hey,” Korra shouted, ducking behind cover next to Asami. “What’re you all doing here?”

“Someone came to the Belle saying you’d need help here,” Asami said, firing a rifle at an oncoming Nazi car. “Luc sent as many men as he could to set up barricades and wait.”

“Lovely guy,” Korra shouted. “Really appreciate how we keep having to almost die for him.”

“Play nice babe,” Asami said, firing at a Nazi jumping out of a halftrack.

The fighting in the streets around the Porte Saint-Martine turned into a miniature siege. Nazi halftracks and trucks were encroaching from the south of the city to the point they clogged the streets. Resistance fighters bearing blue armbands with stolen carbines and SMGs answered the attack of charging Nazis in their gray uniforms and red armbands.

As Fuery fired on the Nazis, part of his mind was struck by how they were dressed. The Nazi helmets and greatcoats looked almost exactly like what he’d worn in the trenches on the southern border. Combined with the fact that his leader was also called fuhrer, a niggling part of Fuery’s brain wondered what that meant for Amestris. The more conscious part was too busy firing at them as they tried to rush the barricades.

Falman fired on a trio of Nazis trying to fire at them from behind a halftrack. He picked off two, but the third threw a grenade at his cover. A heroic thinking soldier would have jumped on the grenade where it landed, sparing his comrades a painful death. Falman wasn’t heroic, Briggs taught him better than that. He kicked the grenade away, the device exploding over the heads of a squad of Nazis and laying them all low.

Breda was a particularly enraging target for the Nazis, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out the reason. As he reloaded his shotgun, he heard them shouting and pouring more fire his way than at any other position in front of the arch. Wondering why they hated him this much, he leaned around his cover and saw four of them sprinting toward him. Bracing the shotgun against his shoulder, Breda slam-fired his six shells at them. Satisfied they weren’t going to get up, he put in six fresh shells.

Havoc watched the Resistance fighters, and was a little impressed with how well they handled themselves. They weren’t expert shots, and even if they were some of the Legionnaires their weapons weren’t impressive against the Nazis. Still, they had heart. Even when the Nazis killed one of theirs, they would cry out for revenge. If one couldn’t carry on the fight with a rifle because his arm was bleeding, he pulled out a pistol. Even as machine gun fire from the halftracks and patrol cars roared around them, they did not shirk or panic. They loaded their weapons, kept fighting, and made the Nazis pay dearly for each attempt to breach the barricade.

He noticed Skylar was as fearless, and as mad as Sean. Even if she was behind cover, she hung out enough that she had to know she was in danger of getting hit. She smiled as she fought, a daredevil grin that begged for this kind of challenge. Havoc swore he saw the woman laugh as she put a round through the head of a Nazi officer, but then the black ops types were always the ones with some screws loose. Havoc wasn’t about to judge her for something he was guilty of being.

The Nazis had thrown five patrol cars, three trucks and four halftracks at the barricade, and paid dearly for it. Their soldiers were cut down, and even the men manning the machine guns could only provide weak supporting fire before Havoc put them down. It was when he was shooting one of the halftracks that a can on the side of the vehicle exploded. Havoc blinked, then realized each of the Nazi heavy vehicles was carrying such markings: A red sign with what looked like an exploding ball. His cigarette tilting up as he grinned, Havoc started strafing the vehicles.

The explosions rocked the Nazis, the soldiers stopping as they thought they were being attacked from behind. One of the few remaining officers shouted out that they needed to flee, and in seconds the Nazis were sprinting away from the landmark in a panic. A great cheer went up among the Resistance, fighters holding their weapons high as their enemies scrambled back to their safer spaces.

“Look at the bastards run,” Sean shouted, grinning. “Just like back in Cork, run you cowards!”

“More soldiers will be on the way though,” Skylar said, moving back to the truck. “We need to get this crate somewhere safe until we can move it.”

“Back to the Belle then,” Sean said, turning to the Resistance. “You lot get back to hiding, now!”

“Everyone in,” Havoc barked, the teams clambering into the back of the truck. As the Resistance fighters scattered back into the city, Sean managed the truck up the hill toward the Belle.

* * *

As the truck pulled back into the garage in the rear of the Belle, everyone fell out of the back of the truck. That was when Skylar jumped out of the cab, taking off her jacket and shaking out her hair. “Well, quite the Sunday drive through the city,” she said, her blonde locks falling about her shoulders. “Anyone know where a girl can get a bath?  
  


Everyone took a moment to stare at Skylar, Korra grinning at the sight of Asami reacting the same way she did earlier.

“Alright, alright, let’s get inside,” Havoc grunted, pulling the door of the garage closed. “Falman, Breda, keep an eye on the box until I send Mako and Bolin in here. No one looks inside the box, understood?” He noticed the only one _not_ staring at Skylar, who seemed to be enjoying the attention, was Sean. Rolling his eyes, Havoc came up behind the three Amestrians and smacked them all across the back of the head. “Understood?”

As the four descended into a comedy routine involving shouting, pointing, and testosterone-fueled posturing, Korra looked to Asami. “Hey, babe? I need to talk to you for a minute.”

“Sure Korra,” Asami said, following Korra into the Belle. Walking through the main floor as things were set up for the night, Korra stopped as she saw Collette talking with some of the other girls. “Hey, Collette, can Asami and I have one of the rooms to ourself tonight?”

Collette looked up, a devious smile on her face. “Oh, is that how it is? Here,” she said, tossing Asami a key. “I suppose I won’t be making much tonight then.”

“We’ll make it up to you,” Korra said, Asami looking between the two in confusion. Making their way up to the room marked on the key, Korra let Asami inside first as she locked the door.

“Well, I mean if you want to we can spend some time together in here,” Asami said, flashing Korra an awkward smile. “Though I figured you’d want to wait until we got back home first.”

Korra said nothing, her back was to Asami as she locked the door. It was a few moments until she finally said, “I…I finally did it Asami.”

Asami puzzled over what Korra could mean, until she realized what Korra could mean after what happened. “What happened?”

“We had to take out a group of Nazis guarding part of the cemetery,” Korra said, her head dipping. “Sean said that if any of them woke up after we knocked them out, they could raise the alarm and…And…” Korra hit her fist against the door.

Asami came up behind Korra, putting a gentle hand on the avatar’s shoulder. “It was him or you.”

Korra shook a little, but did her best to keep her voice firm. “Avatars aren’t told we can’t take lives if it means protecting the balance. Kyoshi was always fighting, doing what she felt was the right thing for the world. She killed tyrants and madmen and…” Korra’s head rose, Asami unable to see her face. “I just…”

“Wish there’d been another way?” Asami watched as Korra turned to face her, tears starting to fall down the side of her face. “You’re not a bad person Korra.”

“I know, I know I’m not,” Korra whispered. “It’s just…It’s different, you know? When I stopped Vaatu, I knew I was doing the right thing. I killed my uncle, but it was because of what he’d become. The soldiers, the ones I killed today…They weren’t threats to the world, killing them won’t stop any of this. They were people.”

“But if you didn’t stop them,” Asami said, pulling Korra close. “They would’ve killed you.”

“Yeah,” Korra said, burying her face into Asami as her voice started to break. “Can we just stay in here for the night?”

“As long as you need Korra,” Asami whispered, guiding her to the bed. “I’ll be right here for you.”


	19. Chapter 18 - A Day Off

**Chapter 18 - A Day Off**

* * *

Sean and Skylar were up early the next morning, strapping the crate to the back of Mssr. Rousseau’s truck. “I’ll be in Le Havre for the day,” Sean said, grinning as he tightened the crate down. “You lot can eat dinner without me.”

“Won’t be a problem, seeing as you two kept the back room for yourselves last night,” Havoc said, grinning as Sean jumped down from the bed of the truck. “Remember, anything happens with the British? You tell us. Even if they tell you where Dierker is, we’ll back you up.”

“Appreciate it,” Sean said, adjusting his jacket. “Nice to have some mates again. Even if it’s only to kill some Nazis.”

“That’s when you’d need them the most,” Havoc said, turning to see Skylar walking out of the back room into the garage. “Well, someone’s refreshed.”

“And here you said you don’t go for that kind of talk,” Skylar said, batting her eyes at Havoc. “Perhaps I’m rubbing off on you?”

Havoc took out a cigarette. “And that’s all you’re gonna rub off on me.”

Sean laughed as he walked to the cab of the truck. “Now I have to deal with her the rest of the day. C’mon Skylar, time for us to have a ride in the country.”

Skylar grinned and leaned toward Havoc saying, “Well that’s just not even trying.” Winking at Havoc, the blonde Brit bombshell hopped into the cab, Havoc waving as the pair rolled out of the garage.

“I see the harlot is gone.” Turning, Havoc saw Veronique glaring at the truck as it rolled onto the street. “I’m surprised she didn’t stay, mother and father would have been glad to have her working at the Belle.”

Havoc’s eyebrow went up at the reaction. “Old friend of yours?”

“Of Sean’s, not mine,” Veronique said, turning her nose up. “I prefer to deal with people who are more respectable.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re dealing with us,” Havoc said, grinning as he walked to the door. “Anyone else up?”

“Two of your men are,” Veronique said, her disgust fading as the two walked back inside. “I didn’t see Korra or Asami all night though, did they make it back from the fighting?”

“They did,” Havoc said, taking a drag. “I think Korra had a rougher time than most, needed to sleep it off.”

“She and Asami must be rather close then,” Veronique said. “It must be so nice to have such a friend.” Havoc had to fight to keep from laughing.

Walking into the main room of the Belle, Havoc saw Falman and Mako talking over breakfast upstairs. Giving them a wave, he bounced up the stairs and made his way to the tables. “Morning boys, how’d we sleep?”

“Fine, but I’m worried about Korra and Asami,” Mako said. “Usually Korra’s a little more upbeat after a win. Last night she went into one of the rooms with Asami and stayed there all night.”

“I’ll ask them about it later,” Havoc said, tapping off some ash. “Today’s our update day. Mako, you wanna come with me?”

“Sure,” Mako said, pushing his plate toward the center of the table.

“Falman, tell everyone we’ll be taking the next two days off,” Havoc said, Mako moving for the stairs. “We’ll pass anything that comes from the SGC later.”

Moving downstairs, Havoc and Mako nodded to Veronique before making their way out of the Belle. They moved through the morning crowd as if they were anyone else, locals of the north side of Paris on their way to their day. They passed through the sounds of bakers and butchers opening for the day, dodging old women trying to follow through on their chores for the day and mothers herding children along. If it weren’t for the occasional Nazi foot patrol or vehicle driving by, Havoc could almost imagine he was back in Central or East City.

“Bolin’s leg’s healing a little better,” Mako said. “He’ll still be off it a few days, but it won’t keep him out of the fight.”

“He won’t be going straight back,” Havoc said, shaking his head. “I want to make sure he understands what I’m saying. If he can’t control himself, he’s not going anywhere until we’re back in the SGC.”

“I know,” Mako said, his tone telling Havoc he wasn’t going to argue the point. “I mean I’m worried for him. Being his brother and all.” There was definite annoyance in that part though.

“Right, got it,” Havoc said, dodging any potential friction. “What about you?”

“I’m getting sick of seeing swastikas everywhere when I’m in the city,” Mako said, glaring as a pair of Nazi soldiers stole some fruit off a stand on the side of the street. “Never mind the idiots wearing them.”

“Can’t blame you,” Havoc said, rolling his eyes at the sight. “Look, the SGC said they’d been making progress. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Maj. Carter’s figured something out.”

Mako glanced at Havoc and said, “What if she hasn’t?”

“Then we keep fighting the Nazis,” Havoc said. “Face it, no one here is the kind of person to sit back and let a bunch of thugs like these run around thinking they can do whatever they want. The minute you saw how the Nazis were treating people, you knew you wanted to stop them.”

“I won’t deny it,” Mako said. “My question is how we get out if the gate is only one-way.”

“That’s why Maj. Carter’s handling it,” Havoc said, blowing out smoke. “The woman figured out how to open an alien portal network, I think she can get us home.” Mako couldn’t exactly argue that point as they came up on the pair of MALPs.

It wasn’t long before the gate opened, the second MALP’s camera shifting. “Gen. Hammond,” Havoc said. “We’ve made contact with a group of British agents in a port town called Le Havre. They had us break into a Nazi position in a cemetery and grab something out of a crypt. We don’t know what, but we’re pretty sure they owe us for it.”

A note flew out of the gate reading, “Did you see what it was?”

“No sir,” Havoc said. “The British said don’t look at it, and given how they were acting I didn’t think it prudent to press the matter. They do owe us though, and between their actionable intelligence and our supplies we should be able to hold out if you need us to.”

The next note read, “We’re ready to test a possible solution. Hit the recall on the first MALP.”

Walking up to the device, Havoc tapped the recall lacrima and watched as the MALP started to glow. It was slow, he wondered if this was like what happened to Fairy Tail in U-616. Then pieces of the MALP started to fade. The camera, the left treads, part of the rear chassis. “This is it,” he said, grinning. “I think we’re -- ”

The glow started flickering, and pieces of the MALP started falling to the ground. Internal components fell through the half-faded ones, clattering against each other on the stone alley. The stalk holding the camera fell sideways, cutting through the translucent metal shell to land next to Havoc’s foot. As half the parts faded away, the rest of the MALP lay in a heap in the street. Havoc and Mako stared at the pile of debris for a second before a note flew through the gate.

“We’ll keep working on it.”

Havoc sighed and turned toward the second MALP again. “Right, got it sir. We’ll -- ” Another note flew through. Confused, Havoc knelt down and picked it up.

“Behind you, around the corner to the MALP’s left.”

It wasn’t the Nazis, they’d have called out or even started shooting. Keeping calm, he turned and called out, “Mako.” Mako came over, and Havoc showed the note before he said, “Go into the building, grab that evidence we need.” Mako nodded, and disappeared into the bombed-out building.

As Havoc waited, he turned to the camera. “Sir, we need clarification on what to do with the evidence.”

The next note read, “Best judgement on the situation is left to you. Ensure safety of MV-2 and 3 above all other concerns.”

Havoc nodded, throwing the near-finished cigarette away. “Got it. Oh, jeez, almost forgot! Sir, can you please get me some decent cigarettes?”

“Veronique?”

Turning at the sound of Mako’s voice, Havoc saw Veronique stumbled into the alley. The Frenchwoman stared at Mako, then Havoc, then the glowing gate.

“Ah crap,” Havoc said. “Sir, that’s one of the local Resistance fighters. If we kill her, we’ll have trouble with the rest later.” He grinned, and took out a fresh cigarette. “I think we can risk a few of the locals knowing what we’re doing around here?”

A pause, then a fresh note.

“Only trusted local individuals.” Followed by several boxes of Marlboros.

“Thank you sir!” Havoc cheered, falling to his knees and sweeping up the boxes. “We’ll be here same time next week, thank you thank you thank you!”

“Sorry about this,” Mako said, scratching the back of his head. “You get used to it.”

Veronique started to sputter a few sounds that maybe were parts of words, watching as Havoc stuffed his coat with the cigarettes. He looked up and gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry about this,” he said, pulling open one of the packs. “We were hoping we wouldn’t have to wrap anyone up in this mess.”

“W-W-What was that,” Veronique whispered. “And what are those?”

“Here’s a question, why were you following us?” Lighting up a fresh Marlboro, Havoc took a massive drag before blowing the smoke at Veronique. “Something you thought you’d do?”

“I wanted to see if I could help,” Veronique whispered, trying to back away. Bumping into Mako, she tried to stand up straight in Havoc’s path. “What was that thing, and what is that device? Who are you, really? You’re not even Americans, are you!”

Havoc grinned, happy that Veronique wasn’t backing down without trying to show some conviction. “Well you’re right, we’re not. I’m from a nation known as Amestris, but we’re more like Germany. Hell, we even have a fuhrer.” Savoring another drag, he took out his cig and pointed it at Mako. “He’s from a place called the United Republic. They’ve got a president, but they also have magic powers called bending.”

Veronique scoffed for a moment, glaring back at Mako before going back to Havoc. “What are you talking about? There are no nations with those names, they don’t exist.”

“You’re right, they don’t,” Havoc said, tapping off some ash. “Not in this world.”

“This world,” Veronique whispered, trying to grasp what Havoc was saying. “You’re not from Earth?”

“Oh, we’re from Earth alright,” Havoc said. “Thing is, not this earth.” As Veronique looked like she was trying desperately to understand what was happening, Havoc nodded to Mako. “We’re taking her back to the Belle.” Mako nodded, watching with unease as Havoc grabbed Veronique’s arm to lead her along through the streets.

* * *

[The teams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FDTjGwmGva0) had gathered in the back room of the Belle, everyone glaring at Veronique. At least, that was what Havoc told them all to do when he rounded them up. The need to keep Veronique off-balance and make her think this was a situation she couldn’t get out of without them letting her.

Veronique was too busy staring at them all, trying to figure out what was going on and what it was she’d seen. Her eyes flitted between them all, Havoc taking his time as he smoked up. Letting the good North Carolina tobacco fill his lungs, he glanced up at Veronique. “So, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you’re all insane,” she said, half-laughing at the situation she found herself in. “There’s no possible way I really saw what I just saw!”

“What about this,” Havoc said, holding up his cigarette. “You saw the packs fly out of the portal. You think I pulled this out of thin air?”

Korra didn’t move, she stayed where she was against the far wall of the room. Part of her was worried that this was going to be a problem, of Havoc deciding to treat Veronique like Sean had treated the Nazis. She feared that she’d have to go up against Havoc, to stop Veronique from winding up as a body thrown onto the streets of Paris.

“Let me pretend that you are truly from some other world,” Veronique said, glaring at Havoc. “Why are you here? You didn’t say anything about this when you helped us against the Nazis in La Villette.”

“Maybe because we hate Nazis,” Havoc said, raising an eyebrow. “Some of our friends have dealt with them before.” Veronique’s mouth dropped open, and Havoc sighed. “Yeah, turns out there’s plenty of Nazis out there. So, we’re trying to do what we can to help you stop them.”

“But why,” Veronique said. “You don’t need to, what do you want from this?”

“Truth be told, we have to keep our minds occupied,” Havoc said, keeping his voice low. “If we spent all our time waiting for our way back to actually work, we’d have gone crazy by now. Instead, we’ve helped save Sean and Luc, organize the resistance to stand against the Nazis, build breathing room for them in the north of the city, and link Luc’s group to the British in Le Havre.” As Veronique’s mind pondered Havoc’s words, he pressed on. “Personally, I think having someone from the local universe in the know on this would make our jobs easier. You can direct us when we need the help, as well as direct us to problems we don’t know exist.” Taking one last drag, Havoc crushed his cig against the cement floor. “Of course, we can always organize it so your family and friends never find your body.”

Al stiffened, so did Korra and her team. Havoc was outright threatening Veronique if she didn’t assist with their actions, and their secret. Worse, they were the only ones that looked worried. Breda observed it all with passive eyes, leaning up against the wall. Falman and Fuery shared a look, but didn’t appear upset.

May was the worst, because of how little she appeared to care. She rolled her eyes, looking like she was more bored than anything. What kind of life had she lived in Xing, where a woman being threatened with death and her body disappearing wasn’t enough to make her react?

Veronique withdrew, burying her head in her hands as she started to breathe harder. There was a moment where Al thought she let out a stifled cry, then raised her head and stared at Havoc. “If I help you, can you promise me that you’ll make Kurt Dierker pay for what he did to my brother?”

“You know I can’t promise something that big,” Havoc said, standing up. “I can promise you that we’ll try to bring him to justice for the things he’s done. That’s all, that’s the line. Anything else is too much for us, no matter what you might think we’re capable of.”

Veronique was silent for a moment, glaring at Havoc like a person might glare at a dog barking at them in the street. Then she looked like she emotionally collapsed and nodded. “Fine, I’ll keep this secret of yours. What choice do I have?”

“Not many,” Havoc said, shrugging as he stood up. “We’ll talk more about this later, for now I’d suggest we all take some time for ourselves.”

Breda, Fuery, and Falman went for the dressing room. Havoc went back into the garage. Veronique stormed out of the backroom, leaving Al standing in shock.

“I…I don’t believe this,” Korra whispered. “He was going to kill her? Because she knew?”

“What are you talking about,” May asked, looking up in surprise. “Havoc wasn’t going to kill her.”

“Maybe I missed something,” Bolin said. “But threatening people with disappearing and not being found kinda sounds like a threat.”

“You could tell it was a cheap bluff,” May said. “If Havoc meant to kill her for what she found, he would have killed her the moment Mako had her cornered.”

“Then why intimidate her like that,” Asami whispered. “She’s already our ally, our friend -- ”

May chuckled, shaking her head and turning away. “Friend? That’s so funny, you’re such a clever joker Asami!” The silence stretched on, and May blinked. “Wait, you really think the Resistance are our friends?”

“We thought they were,” Korra said. “You’re about to tell us why we’re wrong?”

“Well, you are,” May said, almost sounding like she was explaining something to a young child. “We may be helping them now, but when Gen. Hammond orders us to return to the SGC, what then? Bolin, how long does this war last?”

Bolin sighed. “It’ll go for another two years, the Nazis won’t surrender until Hitler kills himself.”

“Two years,” May said. “We can’t stay here for that long.”

“Then what about shortening the war,” Mako said. “We can call the MVTF in and stop the Nazis.”

“What would be the point,” May pointed out. “Bolin said it, the Nazis will collapse in two years. Spending the kinds of resources you’re talking about? It would only eat up more time and teams for the MVTF. More importantly, the Nazis aren’t just in Paris. Bolin, how many soldiers do they have?”

Bolin’s head hung low. “Millions, and they’ll conscript kids before they think of surrendering.”

“Exactly,” May said, folding her arms. “You all think too small about these things. Without our bending and alkahestry, all we can do is strike to help the Resistance and wait for Maj. Carter to figure out how to get us home. Her telling the Resistance about what she saw might make her sound crazy, but it could also be trouble for us. Havoc did what he had to in order to secure her silence.”

“Then why not tell the Resistance and the British what we are,” Korra said. “We could -- ”

“No, I get it,” Bolin groaned. “Yeah, Havoc made the right decision.”

Mako blinked, then turned to face Bolin. “Say what now?”

“The Allies made some pretty hard decisions during the war,” Bolin said. “One of the worst was the firebombing of Dresden, in Germany. The city was a major railway hub, they had to destroy it or risk the Nazis moving more troops to the fighting in the Eastern Front against the Soviets. Only there were also thousands of civilians killed because of the firebombing.”

“Now imagine if people willing to do that found out about the MVTF, and what our teams are capable of,” May said. “We have enough problems to worry about in our own respective universes. Spending two years helping to fight a war we already know will be won?”

“Equivalent exchange,” Al whispered. “It doesn’t add up, we wouldn’t get something of equal value staying here.”

Korra slumped down against the wall, shutting her eyes, Asami kneeling at her side. Mako and Bolin walked out of the backroom. May stayed, watching as Al sat and pondered the world through another set of new eyes.

* * *

Asami found herself shuffling into the garage, by the afternoon she was getting too bored to bear. If nothing else, she could go in an set her mind at ease by working on the Rousseau’s personal car. She was hoping to be alone, so she was a little disappointed to walk in and hear someone already tinkering with the car. As she shut the door behind her, she saw Vittore look up from under the hood. “Ah, Asami right?” He smiled as he wiped his forehead clear. “Did you need something?

“No, was gonna try to work on the car. You’ve got it covered though, I’ll leave.”

Vittore laughed. “No, I could use a little help. Grab the jack stands, I need someone underneath to help me with the transmission.”

Asami nodded, grabbing a pair of jack sands and putting them under the sides of the car. Putting up the car, Asami pulled over a creeper and lay back on it. “Do you have a flashlight, or a lantern?” Vittore handed Asami a small steel flashlight, and the heiress slid under the car. “So, what’s the problem?”

“The transmission keeps sliding into neutral,” Vittore said. “The engine runs perfectly, nothing out of place.”

“Probably a problem with the shift linkage,” Asami whispred, shining the light along the transmission.

“Already checked,” Vittore said, crouching next to the car. “No damage to the external or internal links. I’ve been on this since yesterday, and it isn’t worn teeth or a misaligned housing.”

“Guess you had the same thoughts I did,” Asami said, running her flashlight along the shaft. “Get to work on a car and try to get away from your problems.

“It’s always been my preferred means to relax,” Vittore said, chuckling. “When I got to work on my first car, it was like God himself came down as spoke through me as I checked it over. I’ve never been able to stop, I suppose it makes me an addict.”

“I know the feeling,” Asami said, smiling as she checked over the gearbox. “My dad gave up on keeping me out of his workshop after I turned eleven. He even set aside an old junker for me to dive into.”

“That explains how you knew to use the stands and creeper,” Vittore said. “Not many women around the Belle would even understand where to start.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment,” Asami said, reaching inside the box. “Nothing looks or feels worn down. Maybe…Yeah, here’s the problem. The pilot bearing is bad, thing’s almost worn to nothing. Any way we can get a new one?”

“Probably Santos, unfortunately,” Vittore said. “I thought I’d dealt with his kind after I’d left Italy.”

Asami pulled herself out from under the car and sat up. “Why you have to leave?”

“ _Fasciste,_ ” Vittore grumbled. “The blackshirts and their jealousy. I refused to join the party, so they started attacking me and my business. It was either leave or be killed by them. Instead of leaving me be to my work, they decided I was a threat to their power.”

“Sounds like they’re cowards,” Asami said. “What were they afraid of, that you’d keep fixing people’s cars?”

“They wanted me to use my racing team to show the world the glories of Mussolini’s rule,” Vittore grumbled, going to the other side of the car to lower one of the stands. “I told them I wanted to stay apart from politics, and I refused to work with Beta Romero like they wanted me to.”

“Sounds like there was a history,” Asami said, grabbing a cloth to wipe her hands clean. “What’d they do to you?”

They stole my design,” Vittore said, pulling the stand out from under the car. “I worked on the 12C for five years, and they claimed it as their own. When I challenged them, the blackshirts threatened my racing team into quitting.”

“No wonder you prefer working on cars,” Asami said. “Life’s a lot simpler when you’re turning a wrench.”

“Agreed,” Vittore said, smiling as he held up a hand. Catching the rag from Asami, he wiped off his own hands and shuffled toward the door to the backroom. “Were it my choice, I would still be in Italy working on my designs and running my race team.”

“But that means you’d be ignoring what’s in front of you, wouldn’t it?” Asami watched as Vittore paused at the door, turning his head back toward Asami. “I can understand not wanting to be involved with political trouble, but even if you’d focused on racing you’d still be dealing with people like the Nazis, wouldn’t you?”

“A fair point,” Vittore said, sighing. “I won’t deny, shooting these fascist pigs gave me no small pleasure. Still, I’d prefer to stick to cars than fighting. An old man like me, I’d more likely get myself killed than do any good.”

“I’m sure you’ll still be able to help us,” Asami said, smiling at Vittore as she walked up to the door. “C’mon, let’s figure out how we can get a new pilot bearing from Santos.”

* * *

It was twilight before anyone heard word from Sean. Havoc and Bolin were sitting at the bar when Mssr. Rousseau grabbed the ringing phone behind the counter. La Belle de Nuit…Yes, one moment.” He handed the phone to Havoc and set to getting ready for the night.

“Yeah…Sean, what’ve you got…Really…Okay, we’ll be there tomorrow.” Grinning, Havoc turned to Bolin. “Want to go after the SS commander for Paris?”

Bolin’s face broke into the same grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. So, we're almost done with the first third of the story! Stick around, remember that we're rolling into more fun moments of Nazi-humiliating action. Oh, and some emotional stuff happening with the teams, you know, the sideshow.
> 
> Anyway, as always, feel free to comment on what you like, what needs work, and whatever you think is interesting. Stay tuned, more on the way!


	20. Chapter 19 - The Citadel

**Chapter 19 – The Citadel**

* * *

Loaded up in three separate cars, the teams made their way to Le Havre before dawn the next morning. Between Asami, Havoc, and Breda driving through the backroads and quiet farms of France, they got to Le Havre in time to see the sun finally crest the horizon. The perfect time to illuminate a massive zeppelin docked beside a castle atop the cliffs.

Pulling up to the church, the team saw a Resistance fighter in his blue armband motioning them inside. Leading the way in, Havoc saw the British agents at the altar, Sean lounging in the front pew. “Glad to see you lot could make it,” he said. “Was starting to think I’d have enough time to make confession waiting for you.”

“Don’t feel a need to wait on our account,” Havoc said. “Mr. Bishop.”

“Mr. Havoc,” Bishop said, nodding to the group. “Mr. Devlin said you’d be coming as soon as possible. I didn’t think he would wait on such an opportunity as we’ve offered him, but here we are.”

“Well we aim to please,” Havoc said, taking his own pew at the front. “So, what’ve you got?”

“Soon-to-be-Col. Dierker is at the Citadel north of the city,” Bishop said. “The zeppelin docked at the castle is scheduled to fly to Berlin. Personally, we care little about Dierker, but I personally believe in repaying any debts I owe. Mr. Devlin and your team assisted us in securing the item from the cemetery, therefore we have given him the location of Kurt Dierker.”

“Least you people can keep your word,” Havoc said. “Even if you don’t care about Dierker, taking out a ranking member of the SS like this, it has to send a message to the Nazis.”

“And if done by the Resistance, it keeps our involvement quiet.” Bishop smiled as he walked down from the altar. “We also have an operation we’d like to suggest, requiring the aid of your female members. It could give us an inside source from the Nazi high command as well, meaning they should refrain from partaking in this assault.”

Havoc’s eyes narrowed. “Then I’d need to know what the details are before I say yes. I already had this talk with Luc.”

“Very well,” Bishop said. “Unless I’m mistaken, one of your agents is of Japanese ancestry. With her aid, we could infiltrate the Nazi high command by claiming she is the daughter of an influential Japanese family.”

“A manufacturing family?” It was the fact that Asami was so quick to reply that caught Bishop off guard. “My father did head his own corporation back home. I know about high society, and how to act if we want to get in good with the Nazis. That’s your plan, isn’t it?”

“Quite the intuitive mind you have,” Bishop said, nodding. “Yes, we will be using you to infiltrate the Nazi upper class in Paris.” Asami and Havoc looked to each other, then turned to Bolin. Bolin looked between the two and shrugged.

“Just so the risk is evenly distributed,” Havoc said. “We want one of your people along for the ride.”

“Not a problem,” Bishop said. “Ms. St. Claire has been training to infiltrate behind German lines for some time now. A fortuitous coincidence of timing, I’d say.”

“Yeah, fortuitous,” Havoc whispered, taking a drag.

Bishop looked up at the smell of the smoke. “American cigarettes, Mr. Havoc? A strange choice, wouldn’t you say?”

Havoc’s eyebrow went up. “I have my favorite brand,” he said, staring back at Bishop. “That a problem?”

“It will be if the Gestapo smells that American tobacco,” Bishop said. “I’d recommend you hold off on that brand, Havoc. The last thing you’d need is to be caught with the wrong cigarettes on your person. A shame if you were captured for it.”

“Yeah, it’s a real shame,” Havoc grunted, dropping the cigarette to the church floor and crushing it underfoot. “What’s the plan for assaulting this Citadel?”

“Oh, we don’t have any plan for it,” Bishop said. “We only promised to give Mr. Devlin Dierker’s location. What he does with that is up to him.”

“Ah, the letter-not-the-spirit technique,” Havoc groaned. “Alright, fine. Sean, you want to go after him still?”

“I’d say so,” Sean said, glaring into the distance. “Dierker and I have our own debts to settle.”

“Then let’s get ready,” Havoc said. “Korra, Asami, take Al and May with you back to the Belle. The rest of us will stay here and take out Dierker.”

“You sure you won’t need help?” Korra asked.

“I’m sure,” Havoc whispered. “Get back to Paris, make sure whatever mad plan this is doesn’t get anyone killed.”

“Not sure whether I should feel insulted,” Skylar said, sauntering past Sean. “After all, it was my plan.” Caressing Sean’s shoulder as she passed, Skylar led the four out of the church.

“That about settles it then,” Bishop said. “Best of luck in your hunt, gentlemen.”

The message was clear: Kill or get killed, we don’t care. Glaring at Bishop, Havoc joined Sean as the group went for the door. What they didn’t expect was Skylar waiting outside for them. “You forget your makeup inside?”

“A woman like me doesn’t need makeup all the time,” Skylar said. “I arranged some assistance for this. Go to the docks and find Pino, I arranged some transportation for you that should be able to get you all inside the Citadel. I also left a present for you inside.” Winking at Sean, Skylar nodded to Korra and moved for the cars.

“Christ, that woman,” Sean said, shaking his head.

“She’s not our concern now anyway,” Havoc said. “C’mon, let’s get to the docks.”

Looking out the windows at the back of the church, Wilcox shook his head. “It’s dangerous using him,” he said, the Scot’s thick Glaswegian accent threatening to turn his words into another language. “That paddy bastard is too dangerous.”

“To himself, not to us,” Bishop said, poised as he watched the men move into Le Havre proper. “I promised him Dierker, and a gentleman doesn’t renege on his promises. Besides which, he and those Americans have the necessary skills to clear the way for what will come next. Killing Dierker will halt their efforts and neutralize their attempts to catch up with whatever it is the Americans are trying.”

* * *

After some quiet asking around, the team found Pino standing by a German transport truck. “You must be Devlin,” he said. “They’re expecting this truck at the Citadel. Play it right, they’ll let you right in.”

Havoc checked the back, seeing crates marked with red crosses; medical supplies. “C’mon, let’s move some of this shit outta the way,” Havoc said, pulling down the tailgate. Leaving some of the boxes in a small office by the docks, Havoc went around front to see Sean pulling on a uniform. “Skylar’s gift?”

“Would’ve preferred a boudoir album, but it’ll do,” Sean said, grinning. “Ready back there?”

“We’ll be good little pills and needles,” Havoc said, grinning. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The ride up to the Citadel was uncomfortable, the truck and the crates jostling and shifting with each bump and pothole. Peeking out the window to the cab, Havoc saw two massive cannons pointing across the ocean. “ _Weird looking shore defense batteries,_ ” he thought, the two massive guns mounted on what looked like railway cars.

“Bolin,” Mako said, glancing at his brother. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yep, leg’s all better,” Bolin said, slapping his calf.

“Not that,” Mako said. “You’re gonna keep your head on straight, right?”

Bolin drew in a breath and nodded. “I won’t lose control this time Mako, that’s a promise.” Mako nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off his brother.

Still peeking out the front, Havoc saw Sean’s truck fall in line behind a trio of transports carrying troops. “Okay, everyone stay quiet,” Havoc shouted over the roaring engine. “Whatever happens, we have to wait until we’re inside the Citadel.” Getting nods, Havoc moved to position himself behind the crates.

The truck stopped, Havoc trying to listen over the engine as Sean was probably stopped for an inspection. His hand tightened on his weapon, this was always the most dangerous part of an infiltration. If the slightest thing was wrong on the manifest, if the guards were paying attention, they were all dead men. When the truck started moving again, he let out a breath.

The truck kept rolling, until there was another stop. “Looks sharp boys,” Sean shouted in the back. “There’s Krauts coming our way, looks like they’re about to unload.”

Havoc gave a thumbs up, then nodded to Breda.

Hanz and Franz sighed, moving to the back of the cargo truck. Having the SS around had meant dealing with strutting martinets for days, their leader couldn’t leave any faster. Once they unloaded the medical supplies in the truck, they could end their duty and try to get into town for some drinks. Unlatching the tailgate, they went to move the first box, only to get pulled inside by three sets of hands.

Adjusting the uniforms as they got out of the back, Falman and Havoc scanned the area before playing at unloading the boxes. There were three Nazi soldiers looking out over the cliffside. There was one SS man standing guard by the door. A junior officer stood by another cargo truck, watching over the front of the castle. Nodding to each other, Fuery and Falman moved apart.

Havoc walked along the side of the cliff, thankful that duty was dull no matter what universe they were in. It was two dangerous to start with the two men right on the cliff, but the third was standing behind a ruined wall trying to smoke. Perfect. Havoc walked up behind the man, the Nazi too busy trying to escape to his smoke to realize someone was coming up behind him. A quick snap of the neck, and the Nazi dropped.

Turning back, Havoc saw no one had noticed. Pulling the Nazi behind the ruined wall, Havoc moved up to the closest of the two soldiers on the cliff. Moving behind him, Havoc covered the man’s mouth and pinched on the side of his neck. The soldier went limp seconds later, but Havoc didn’t push him off the side. There was no promise he could kill the third man before there was a splash.

Moving up behind the third man, Havoc cursed when the soldier turned and saw him. Thankfully, there was enough distance that Havoc could close in time. It was obvious the Nazi was asking who Havoc was and where his fellow sentries were. Havoc shrugged his shoulders, looking confused until he came up close enough to send a hard cross at the Nazi. Grabbing the front of his uniform, Havoc sent two more blows at the man before throwing him off the cliffside. Checking to see he wasn’t noticed, he went back and did the same to the other sentry.

As Havoc cleared away the sentries on the cliffside, Falman made his way around to the officer by the truck. Training carried him through this moment, but not any kind of formal design or class. No, it was a lesson learned dodging bullshit work squads that would be ordered to paint fences or clean up offices: Look busy, move with a purpose, and don’t talk to anyone unless a higher rank calls you over. The officer ignored Falman, figuring the soldier was already tasked with something else. Five seconds later, Falman had put his hand over the officer’s mouth and pulled him to the ground.

As Falman handled the officer, Havoc started moving for the door. He saw around the edge of the castle, there were two small guard shacks. An officer in a black trenchcoat was berating two gray-shirted soldiers outside the buildings. Ignoring that for now, Havoc walked up to the SS man. The black-shirted sentry sneered at Havoc, shouting something that was no doubt insulting. Havoc might’ve even been offended if he knew what was being said. Havoc put on a stupid smile, waving at the man as he approached. The SS sentry rolled his eyes, storming over to Havoc. Being the obliging fellow he was, Havoc grabbed the back of the sentry’s head and pulled it down into his rising knee. The SS landed like a pile of rocks, Havoc snapping his neck for good measure before looking for Falman. Getting a thumbs up, Havoc turned and signaled to the truck that the coast was clear.

Jumping out of the cab, Sean threw off the uniform and pulled his jacket back on. “Quite the front door,” Sean said, looking at the front gate of the castle. “Reckon some explosives could let us in.”

Havoc looked over the door. The wooden gates were massive, probably barred from the inside. Trying to ram them with the truck might not work, and leave them standing outside like idiots when the Nazis came out to try and see what the crash was. “Alright, do you have any explosives?” Grinning Sean pulled some dynamite from his satchel. “Okay, seriously, what don’t you have in there?”

* * *

[Dierker observed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwcqLRNOimI) the Atlantic from the gondola of the zeppelin, waiting for the day he would hear that the Kriegsmarine had finally done its job and destroyed British shipping. Still, it was an honor to stand upon the venerable _Graf Zeppelin_. The airship had been a glorious image of the Reich, flying from every corner of Europe in spite of attempts by the RAF to down her. She had transported half the delegation that had signed the surrender of France after they had taken Paris, and now she would carry him to Germany.

This return to Berlin would be a triumph, a recognition of his great services to the furtherance of the Aryan cause. Becoming a colonel of the SS would bequeath on him the honors rightfully afforded. His projects and plans would be given greater attention, and once they started deploying his development on the Eastern Front, the Slavs would know the terror of their end. Of course, it was luck that also made sure his promotion was approved before anyone heard about the incident at the wedding.

“ _Mein herr,_ ” one of the Luftwaffe enlisted said. “We are almost ready to depart.”

“Very good,” Dierker said, not bothering to look back. “Is my cabin -- ”

An explosion rocked the Citadel, Dierker falling face-first into the window. “ _Vas is loss?!_ ”

The front of the Citadel was filled with gunfire, Havoc and Sean leading the charge inside the half-ruined castle to see dozens of Nazis trying to pull themselves together after the explosion. They fired as they moved, dropping a trio of Nazis in the ruins of the castle as the rest of the team scattered among the fallen columns and shattered walls. The Nazis tried to respond, but being so secure in their base had left them vulnerable. If you don’t expect to be attacked, you can’t respond to one. The men at the front were cut down, and the fight began.

Sean charged ahead, Havoc sprinting to keep up as he fired. The Nazis were everywhere; behind the ruins, atop the walls, even sniping from the tower to the rear of the castle where the zeppelin was moored. Fuery and Falman tried to keep them from killing them, Nazis falling from the ramparts like hail in the summer. Breda and Mako kept the flanks, Mako’s rifle chattering away as Breda’s shotgun boomed.

Havoc, Bolin, and Sean were in the lead, pushing through the Nazi fortress like a cleansing fire. Between Bolin and Sean charging headlong into the Nazis, Havoc only needed to pop up from behind cover and fire to catch two or three Nazis in the head. Swapping magazines, Havoc saw the tower’s portcullis had been shut. “Sean! Any more dynamite?”

“Last of it,” Sean shouted, kicking a Nazi down before riddling the jackboot with lead.

Havoc bit back a string of curses and scanned the tower. It was a ruin, like the rest of the castle. It also had plenty of stone masonry worn and chipped from the years. Havoc turned back and shouted, “Breda! Cover us, we’re climbing the tower!”

The tower didn’t stand alone in the castle, but was surrounded by a set of stairs leading up from the space inside. As Nazi soldiers kept trying to fire at them, they were suppressed or killed by the rest of the team inside the walls. Mako saw one of the Nazis trying to draw a bead on Bolin as he ran up to the tower. Sighting in, he put four rounds into the Nazi. The Nazi cried out, blood flying as the fell screaming from the ramparts.

Bolin wasn’t worried about the rounds clashing against the stonework next to his hands. He didn’t care that climbing up the side of the tower was a pain with his shotgun slung over his shoulder. He could only focus on the zeppelin waiting on the side of the castle, engines idling in the distance. Eyes wild, he picked up his pace to catch up with Sean.

Reaching the top of the tower, Havoc turned and shouted, “Breda! Get back to the truck, get outta here and meet us at the hideout!”

Breda nodded, reloading his shotgun and turning to yell,” Everyone back to the truck, now!”

“They’re still up there,” Mako shouted, glaring at Breda. “We can’t leave them!”

“We’re not leaving them, it’s called tactical repositioning,” Breda shouted. Raising his shotgun, he took out half a Nazi’s face. The Nazis screamed, dropping his rifle to try and stem the blood streaming out of his face. Breda answered the screaming with another shell, this time taking the rest of the Nazi’s face off.

Mako glanced back at Bolin, watching as his brother disappeared into the tower. “If they don’t make it out, you’re answering for it.”

“Fair point,” Breda said, firing one last shell. “Back to the truck, now!”

Inside the tower, the trio fired down on confused Nazis not expecting fire from above. Nazi bodies littered the stairs on the way down, Havoc keeping a close eye on Sean and Bolin. Both of them were charging through the Nazis, maybe taking a moment or two to aim before cutting down more. Gray-uniformed bodies hung over the railings and across the landings, faces frozen in shock and terror.

The three came to the ground again, Havoc sweeping the area clear as Sean ran forward. Then he shouted out, “Mother of Jesus!” Havoc saw him pat down his clothes as he ran back, and looking toward the other end of the tower Havoc saw a flamethrower coming their way. Raising his SMG, Havoc fired at the Nazi, catching him in the tanks and detonating the fuel.

“What the hell is he doing here,” Havoc shouted. “Why would you put a flamethrower in a defensive position?”

Bolin peered around the wall, reloading his shotgun as the Nazis started to pour fire at the opening. “Is that weird?”

“Yeah it’s weird,” Havoc said, scrounging around the bodies. “A flamethrower is meant for use against fortified enemy positions or hardpoints. You don’t use them on the defense unless you’re desperate to deny an area to enemy infantry. God, I think they’re grabbing whatever weapons they’ve got left now.” Grabbing three stick grenades, Havoc nodded and ran for the doorway out of the tower. Pulling the pins, he threw the grenades out of the door. When they exploded, he charged ahead.

The next part of the castle was centered around the statue of an angel, bearing a sword in the center of two dozen Nazi banners. Scaffolding was in place around the ruin, along with dozens of Nazis firing from the second floor. There was only one way to survive, and that was to charge up. Raising his SMG, Havoc caught a Nazi soldier in the chest as he tried to fire on the trio. The ruined floors were filled with crates and boxes, Havoc was betting that the Nazis had been loading up the zeppelin when they struck. “ _Yeah, you don’t care about what happens with Dierker_ ,” Havoc though. “ _Bishop, you snake._ ”

A sharp crack. Diving behind another crumbling wall, Havoc saw an SS sniper firing on them from an upper level. Said sniper was standing near a cluster of fuel barrels. Havoc tried to draw a bead on them, but additional fire from the other side of the castle kept him down. That was when the barrels exploded, and Havoc heard Sean shout out, “Not the same as killing defenseless women and children, is it!”

Bolin dove behind one of the metal crates, rounds pinging against it as he loaded fresh shells. Peering around the corner, he saw a trio of Nazis charging toward them. Bracing the shotgun against his shoulder, Bolin pulled the trigger and tried what he’d seen Breda do: Hold the trigger, rack the slide. The shotgun slammed into his shoulder, but the force was nothing compared to what it was like to control the earth itself. The three Nazis fell, distant groans floating about in the gunfire.

The zeppelin hung over their head like a great beast of myth, massive swastikas proclaiming Nazi power. A set of stairs led to the roof of the castle, and from there the tower mooring the zeppelin. Sprinting up them, Bolin had to dive for cover behind another set of crates. He saw three SS coming his way, two snipers keeping him pinned from the tower connected to the zeppelin. That was when two grenades flew up from below, blowing the men back. Havoc and Sean sprinted up a second later, Havoc firing on the snipers as Sean grinned at Bolin. “What’re you waiting for, a bloody invitation?”

Bolin laughed, springing up and following Sean to the tower. Havoc took one of the snipers down with a burst, Sean leading the way up the metal stairs along the side. A Nazi officer drew his pistol, Sean ducking as Bolin stuck to cover. The Nazi tried to scream out something, but Sean put ten rounds into his chest.

“Sean,” Havoc shouted, coming up on the two. “Sean, did you see Dierker anywhere in the castle?”

“No,” Sean growled. “He’s gotta be in the zep, bastard’s the kind who loves to lord over everyone else from on high.”

“Alright, just remember to be careful,” Havoc said. “I don’t want to die on a flying pyre.”

The three moved up the last set of stairs to the zeppelin, Havoc keeping his weapon trained on the gondola. He couldn’t hear any more shouting from inside, either the crew had been sent out to stop the attack or they were waiting inside. Either way, they weren’t getting out.

The path ahead was clear, a single corridor leading to the cockpit. The three kept their weapons up, anxious for some kind of Nazi trap. That was when Sean ducked low, and the trio saw a lone Nazi in an SS uniform stomp across the cockpit floor. Creeping forward, Sean waited to see if Dierker would move through the door again. That was when pistol fire came out of the cockpit, Havoc and Bolin ducking. Looking up, they saw Sean and Dierker grapple with each other. The rounds careened around the cockpit, sparking against a fuel line. The cockpit erupted in flame, the zeppelin shuddering. Havoc felt the aircraft start to shift as it came loose from the moorings.

Havoc rolled over to Bolin, pulling the earthbender away from the worst of the flames. “Bolin, Bolin are you alright?”

“Ugh, it’s like sparing with Mako in here,” Bolin groaned, standing up. “Where’s Sean?”

Looking back toward the cockpit, Havoc saw Sean disappear around a corner. Dragging Bolin forward, he saw a ladder on the right of the cockpit. Motioning Bolin to start moving, the two crawled up to see Sean scanning the hull. “Where’s Dierker?”

Havoc tried to look through the flames, and saw a black figure sprinting across the gantries toward the back of the zeppelin. “There, over there!”

Sean started sprinting ahead, Bolin and Havoc keeping pace just to try and avoid dying in one place. The trio sprinted across the metal walkways, the zeppelin still shaking as they ran. Havoc kept looking ahead, he knew even one glance back and his mind would tell him to stop. Even when the gantry shifted, even when part of it collapsed and the three had to take a running jump over the empty space, he kept looking ahead.

The fuel cells burst around them, hydrogen gas lighting and creating a downpour below as the skin peeled away. Havoc tried to ignore the fact that this was the second time in two weeks he was being burned alive while fighting Nazis near one of their zeppelins.

Bolin was of a different mind. He was focused on Dierker, grabbing onto a cable leading across more collapsed walkways to see that the SS man paid for what he’d done. His eyes were burning as much as the zep, and the constant leaping and dodging of debris was irrelevant. He kept even pace with Sean, not noticing the smell of singing hair or burning clothes coming from his own body.

The path ahead ended, the only way across a cable to the aft section. Sean threw his coat off and threw it over the line. Bolin stripped his shirt away and did the same. “ _Huh, almost like I’m doing the Nuktuk movies again._ ” Grinning, he threw it over the cable and followed Sean down. He heard Havoc shouting something about “Crazy idiots” behind him, the zeppelin shaking with subsequent explosions.

Landing on the aft platform, the trio saw Dierker putting on a parachute, holding them at gunpoint. His eyes were wild, and his blonde hair whipping about in the wind. He looked less like a military leader, and more like a crazy man in a uniform. “So it was you Devlin,” he shouted over the explosions. “You cheated me! You should have died under my knife!”

“There’s nowhere you can run,” Sean shouted back. “I’ll find you, wherever you go!”

“I think not,” Dierker shouted, a manic smile spreading across his face as he gripped part of the harness. “You and your friends will die in fire, better than you all deserve! _Auf wiedersehen, schweinehund!_ ” Jumping out the open hatch, Dierker laughed as he pulled the cord to reveal his parachute had a massive iron cross painted on it.

The tree men looked around, and saw the zeppelin was over the bay outside Le Havre. Havoc shouted, “Can you two swim?” He didn’t wait for an answer, and pushed Sean and Bolin out before jumping himself.

Saltwater burned Havoc’s eyes and nose, but he started pushing back toward the surface. Breaking the water, he gasped for air and spun around. He saw Sean and Bolin bobbing in the current, and once they had eyes on each other they started swimming for the coast.

“So what’d you think,” Bolin gasped, half-grinning as he paddled back to France. “Is he angry?”

“Somehow Bolin,” Havoc gasped, starting to feel sand underneath his shoes. “I don’t think ‘angry’ covers it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Every action scene can be improved with exploding Nazi zeppelins." - Flyboy254


	21. Chapter 20 - Division of Labor

**Chapter 20 – Division of Labor**

* * *

It was two days before Luc returned to the Belle, walking in to see the morning routine in action. The women made their way about the main room and second floor, and scanning the room Luc saw May leaning over the railing. “ _Bonjour_ , May!”

“Oh, hi Luc,” May said, waiving at the man. “If you’re looking for Havoc and Sean, they’re busy right now. They were caught next to another burning zeppelin, they’re trying to heal their burns.”

“Very well, I will be upstairs in a moment.” Moving for the stairs, Luc ascended to the second floor to see the teams scattered about the tables. The curious addition was a blonde woman in a bomber jacket, glancing toward him with hooded eyes.

“Luc,” Asami said, standing up to greet him. “It’s good to see you again. Have there been any problems?”

“ _Non_ ,” Luc said. “The Resistance holds firm, and Le Crochet continues to train our new recruits. Fr. Denis has sent out word to other priests within the city, we have learned of two additional leaders of the Resistance deeper in the Nazi’s territory. He says they are hesitant to reach out however. They wish to see more proof of our capabilities before they trust us. And you are, _mademoiselle?_ ”

“Skylar St. Claire,” she said, turning in her chair to face Luc in a way that reminded everyone of the girls that danced on stage. “Unofficial representative of His Majesty’s government to you little resistance movement.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Luc said, walking over and kissing her hand. “It is good to know we have allies once again.”

“Unfortunately, you won’t be having me,” Skylar said. “My department is already preparing a plan alongside Ms. Sato, you’ll have to work with Havoc and his boys for now.”

“Very well,” Luc said. “I was hoping to speak with Alphonse, we have much to plan for if we are to unite the Resistance in Paris.”

Al half-looked up from his plate, blinking as he realized someone was talking to him. “Oh, right. Uh, let me finish my breakfast?”

“Of course,” Luc said, smiling. “With what we have planned, an empty stomach would not help any of us.”

“I’ll get Veronique,” Breda said, rising from his seat. “Then we can all sit down at talk over what’s going to happen next.”

As Breda walked off, Skylar turned back to the table. “So, Veronique is playing at being part of the Resistance now? I would have thought she’d be afraid of getting her hands dirty.”

“Considering she planted a bomb on her own accord, I wouldn’t say she isn’t willing to get her hands dirty.” Pulling out a cigarette case, Luc put a cigarette to his lips and lit up. “All of the Resistance is ready and willing to give their lives to the cause.”

“All well and good,” Skylar said, rolling her eyes. “Perhaps we should focus on living for it though? The Nazis seem more than willing to die for their cause after all.”

“That is true,” Luc said, blowing out the smoke from his nostrils. “We will have many opportunities to present them with such a sacrifice in time as well.”

Looking past Luc, Skylar grinned and leaned forward on the table. As Asami and Fuery were trapped in the sight, Skylar went on. “My department believes that the Nazi high command isn’t as united as they would present themselves to the world. Primarily, that the SS and Wehrmacht are willing to do whatever they can to sabotage each other. As Asami has experience in this kind of society, she’ll be our way in.”

“Uh, one problem,” Korra said, leaning her head on her hand. “Asami can’t speak their language, none of us can.”

“Not a problem,” Skylar said, brushing her hair from her eyes and either not noticing or not caring that Asami and Fuery still noticing. “As long as she speaks Japanese, we can carry on with this operation.”

“She can’t,” Veronique said, walking up with Breda. “Her family’s never been to Japan, she was born in America. Trying to pass her off as a Japanese heiress would be a failure.”

“Oh, look who decided to mingle with the morally lesser,” Skylar said, turning to face Veronique. Asami and Fuery followed their targets, until eye contact was broken and they returned to reality. “If that’s the case, then how do you recommend we pass her off as a Japanese heiress?”

“Many wealthy Japanese sent their children to study in other countries,” Veronique said, Breda grinning as she spoke. “Claim that she is a student of American schools. After all, I’m sure that as good American agents she would have any one of them to choose from?” Breda glared and cleared his throat, and Veronique added, “Perhaps Harvard?”

“Perhaps that would do,” Skylar said, grinning at the idea. “What do you say Asami? Anything has to be better than spending your nights with a walking example of perfect morality.”

“Huh? Oh, sure, we can work with that,” Asami said, shaking her head clear. “But why do we need Korra and May?”

“It wouldn’t do to have a high-society heiress without servants,” Skylar said. “And of course, a good German girl to help act as your assistant.”

“The only time in your life I can imagine you’ve been good,” Veronique added.

“An ingenious plan,” Luc said, tapping off the ash on his cigarette. “Alphonse and I will pursue contact with the other cells of the Resistance in the city. I’m sure that Santos can assist us in this endeavor.”

“And once Sean and the others are ready, Bishop should have another lovely mission for you out in the countryside.” Standing up, Skylar strutted toward the stairs, Asami and Fuery locked in again. “I’ll take care of the disguises and paperwork, shouldn’t be so hard an issue to have these made up. Ta-ta loves.”

As Asami and Fuery shook their heads clear, Luc turned to the group. “I see we have our work cut out for us.”

“We shouldn’t trust her,” Veronique said, glaring at Skylar as she walked across the main floor to the door. “That woman only cares about herself.”

“She is our link to the British secret service,” Luc said, tapping the ash off. “We have better odds with her interacting with us instead of offending her.” Luc gave Veronique a glance. “Perhaps there is another reason you feel we should not work alongside her?” Veronoique grimaced but said nothing. “If that’s done, what do we have for breakfast?”

* * *

Dierker glared ahead as the doctor finished applying the bandages. “It will take some time for the wounds to fully heal, Herr Colonel,” the doctor said, finishing up with the burns on his back. “I recommend you return in a week, to at least check on the progress of your recovery.” Dierker didn’t acknowledge the doctor as he finished, he threw on his uniform blouse and stormed for the door.

“That was fast,” Franziska said, barely keeping pace with Dierker as they moved out of the hospital. “What did he say?”

“He said that I would be fine,” Dierker growled, going for his car. “Get in, now.”

Following Dierker into the back of the staff car, Franziska watched as he grabbed one of the bottles of schnaps and yanked the top off. “Someone has betrayed me. There was no way the Irishman could have known I would be at the Citadel that day.”

“But we know the British are active in France,” Franziska said. “Irish, British, they’re all the same.”

“He still shouldn’t have found me,” Dierker said, taking another drink. The pain from the burns flared up with each sudden motion, but he ignored it as the alcohol numbed his senses. “No, this was a betrayal. Someone else wants me dead.”

Franziska was silent, trying to run through what Dierker was saying. “No, you can’t believe that someone let this information slip to the British.”

“I can,” Dierker growled. “Think about it, how else could there have been the means used by the Irishman to get inside? They had access to one of our trucks, the papers to get inside the Citadel, even uniforms! This was an attempt on my life, and only one person would be able and willing to do it.” Dierker leaned forward and, in a harsh whisper, said, “Eckhardt.”

Franziska blinked, making sure the partition was closed before responding. “You really think Gen. Eckhardt was the one?”

“Of course, I can’t prove it,” Dierker grunted, leaning back in his seat. “Eckhardt is still considered a leading figure in the Wehrmacht, he will be well-defended by his reputation. Still, he is afraid of my presence in his command. What better way to secure his hold in Paris than my elimination.”

“Of course,” Franziska said, smiling as she leaned back in her seat. “Then what is your plan?”

“Herr Himmler believes that my projects will have merit in the future,” Dierker said. “Perhaps we should move it to new facilities. Dopplesieg should do.”

“Right in his factory,” Franziska purred, turning Dierker’s chin toward hers. “I love it.” Dierker was about to get started, when another bump in the road spilled schnaps over the both of them.

* * *

It was four days until Havoc, Bolin, and Sean were well enough to move. Skin still aching as they moved, the three drove to Le Havre again. Passing the Resistance fighters in the church they found Wilcox sitting in the back behind the desk for the British SOE. “Devlin,” he growled, glaring at the trio. “You’re alive.”

“Nothing gets past you mate,” Sean said, beaming his shit-eating grin at Wilcox. “Where’s Bishop?”

“I cannot tell you that,” Wilcox said, rising from the desk. “His present whereabouts are classified. Still, a shame you didn’t kill Dierker, isn’t it?”

Sean’s grin vanished. “For now,” he grumbled.

“Well, it takes a hard heart and a steady hand to face a man like Dierker,” Wilcox said, glancing at Havoc and Bolin. “Explains why the Americans were no help.”

“Yeah, well, at least we aren’t hiding in a backroom letting someone else do the work!” Bolin tried to look haughty, but only succeeded in making Havoc facepalm.

Sean stared at Bolin a moment, then turned back to Wilcox. “Tell Bishop that this isn’t over, I am making Dierker pay.”

“Well until you’re too busy messing about with the frogs, we do have a real job for you,” Wilcox said, sitting back behind the desk. “See, somehow Bishop got it in his head that you’re not just another sheep-headed paddy fuck.” Havoc and Bolin noticed Sean’s fists clench at the comment. “Looks like the old man owes me ten quid.”

“Well, we both know the Brits won’t miss ten quid,” Sean said, trying to keep his voice even. “But if his ‘majesty’ wants my help, it’ll cost considerably more than that.”

Wilcox nodded. “That’s what he’d said you’d say. The Jerries have taken over an old abbey outside of town, converted the place into an experimental RADAR facility.”

Sean blinked. “What the fuck is ‘radar’?”

“Secret business,” Wilcox said, words oozing with condescension. “Bit over your head. Anyway, were it up to me I’d dial up a squadron of Lancasters and blow the shitehole back to medieval times. Only the Jerries are using the nuns as human shields. Our flyboys hate the idea, and the ministry doesn’t like the idea of dead nuns being used as a propaganda image in the newsreels.”

“So, you need a man on the ground to do your dirtywork,” Sean said.

“The old man says you’ve got a talent for sneaking into places and blowin’em up,” Wilcox said, flashing his own grin at Sean. “He seems to think you’re our man. I says, ‘Why not’? You get yourself killed, well that’s just one less paddy fuck for us to worry about.”

“Keep grinning you tosser,” Sean said, turning away. “I’ll be back to wipe it off your face when the job’s done.”

“I can’t wait to see that,” Wilcox said. “The target’s L’Ossuaire, in Lorraine. You can bring along your yank friends if you can’t do it alone.”

“Jeez, how dumb do you think he is,” Havoc said, finally speaking up. “As stupid as you if you think he’d really do something like this himself?” Flicking his cigarette at Wilcox’s desk, Havoc and Bolin followed Sean out of the church.

“Well, that guy’s pretty rude,” Bolin said. “What’s his deal?”

“He’s a racist fuck,” Sean growled. “You’re a chinaman, aren’t you? Explains why you don’t know.”

Bolin blinked. “Don’t know what?”

“Wilcox and his type think the Irish are a bunch of dumb drunk bastards,” Sean said, walking back to the car. “They hate us because we’re Catholics, because we wanted our own country again after the English took it from us.”

“Ah, and he doesn’t like the fact that you’re actually good at what you do,” Bolin said as he got to the door of the car.

“There’s probably a lot of things he don’t like about me,” Sean murmured. Havoc said nothing as Sean pulled out onto the dirt road back to Paris.

* * *

“Here we are,” Skylar said, setting down several bags and boxes in the backroom of the Belle for Asami, Korra, and May. “If you’re going to act the part of high society, you’d best look it too.”

“Do I even want to know how you got my measurements,” Asami said, staring at Skylar as she grabbed some of the bags. “Or am I going to wind up sorry I asked?”

“It wasn’t too hard,” Skylar said. “I simply grabbed your clothes from the wash and brought them to the nearest dressmakers. There are still some shops in Paris that are open.”

“Oh, that is clever,” May said, beaming at Skylar while Korra and Asami both stared. “What about once we get inside the Nazi society?”

“Well, you’re still Asami Sato,” Skylar said, watching as Asami pulled out a red trenchcoat. “Your father is the head of the Mirai Concern, manufacturers of much of Japan’s industrial capabilities and tools. Your mother is in ill health, not a subject you like to talk about and will quickly deflect away from. You studied for five years at Harvard, specializing in economics despite your father’s wishes that you remain a quiet and dutiful daughter.”

“We can just say my mother is dead,” Asami said, the barest trace of sadness creeping into her voice. “Less worrying about what her disease is, and still uncomfortable to talk about.”

“Fair enough,” Skylar said. “I will be Bridget Hammersmark, quiet and dutiful secretary from Munich assisting you in your stay in Paris. Korra, May, you will be Asami’s personal servants. You were hired by Mr. Sato from Korea, you don’t speak any languages other than your own native tongue. If anyone tries to talk to you, play dumb and don’t act like you understand anything they say.”

“Well this is great,” Korra said. “So, we just sit around and act like we’re idiots?”

“Not sit, you’re the help,” Skylar said. “You’re be dusting and cleaning and providing everything your mistress needs.”

Asami and Korra both looked up and at the same time said, “Mistress?”

“The key is that we con the Nazis into thinking she’s someone on their level,” Skylar said, grinning as Korra pulled out a set of plain gray jacket, blouse, and ankle-length skirt. “Once she’s inside their power structure, they will see her almost as a dignitary, without the red tape that would hold up further actions of the alliance between Germany and Japan.”

“And since I’m the daughter of an industrial family, I’ll be someone they’ll want to show off their developments to.” Asami nodded, pulling open a hatbox and pulling out a red hat that she slipped onto her head. “When do we start?”

“Next week,” Skylar said, leaving the girls to their work. “I have to ready the rest of the papers and other tricks of the trade. All the boxes are marked for you, there shouldn’t be any confusion.”

“Thanks,” Asami said, pulling one of the bags open. “We’ll make sure we -- ” She paused, glancing down at what was in the bag, then up at Skylar with a reddening face. “What are these?”

“Oh, that bag,” Skylar said, watching as Korra and May looked in to see what was inside and getting just as red. “If you’re going to be part of high society, you have to dress the part right down to your knickers.” Winking at Asami, Skylar went out the back door. Korra and Asami stared at the door, then turned to each other as May kept staring inside the bag.

* * *

Al followed Luc to Santos’ “office” in the courtyard across the street from the Belle, the Spaniard looking up from his desk with a smile and outstretched arms. “Ah, _mi amigos!_ It is good to see you both again.”

“ _Bonjour_ , Mssr. Santos,” Luc said, smiling as he walked up to the desk. “I trust your business has been going well?”

“Ah, it is wonderful,” Santos said, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Ever since the Resistance’s actions, I have had all the space I need to in order to carry out my business.”

“Then perhaps we may be able to come to an arrangement,” Luc said. “Our forces require proper weapons to continue their fight against the Nazis. Should they return in force to the north of the city, your business would be put in a fresh stranglehold.”

“That is true,” Santos said, the wheels in his head spinning. “Understand, I cannot procure you weapons equal to the ones the Nazis use. Too many questions would be raised, and my suppliers would be forced to restrict their actions.”

“Then perhaps we can help each other,” Luc said. “There are other cells of the Resistance further in the city. Cells that would need the help of a man like you in finding weapons and information.”

“You aren’t wrong Gaudain,” Santos said. “My base of customers isn’t very large right now. Expanding into the rest of the city could be useful.”

“In that respect, we can work together,” Luc said. “Certainly your employees would benefit from a larger area to sell to?”

“Then what will this require,” Santos asked, interlacing his fingers. “After all, making contact with these other cells won’t be simple.”

“We require papers, for myself and young Alphonse,” Luc said, patting Al on the back. “At least to get us beyond the checkpoints into their second zone of occupation.”

“I suppose I can give you what you need,” Santos said, weaving his fingers together. “I can secure you some second-line weapons for your forces, though seeing as you won against the Nazis before, maybe you don’t need them?”

“I would rather not be caught unawares, nor become complacent,” Luc said. “How long until we can expect delivery of these weapons?”

“Give my people at least two weeks before we can start moving them into the city,” Santos said. “Understandably, the papers will take less time to secure, perhaps a week at the most.”

“I understand,” Luc said, bowing to Santos. “I will arrange for whatever contraband we’ve found to be sent to your men.”

“And I will get started on what you need,” Santos said, clapping his hands. “Say, while you’re here, why not take one of my bananas? Fresh from South America, a real bargain.”

“Perhaps another time,” Luc said, waving the offer away. “We must go and prepare what you need. Come Alphonse, we have much to do.”

Out of earshot of Santos, Al looked up to Luc and asked, “Do you really trust him?”

“Only to remain loyal as long as we have something to offer him,” Luc said, his face turning hard. “As long as we supply him with good cigarettes and the finer parts of life, he will provide us with weapons and ammunition.”

“Quite a way to make a living,” Al observed. “Seeing everything as a transaction.”

“Life is a transaction,” Luc said, sounding like he was dictating more than speaking to Al. “We come into this world from the union of our parents, do we not? Our time here is ruled by give and take. We give our time to our work, and in return we take from the work of others. Money may be a medium to represent it, but in truth even making the money itself is a transaction between the workers who make it and the governments who distribute it.”

“An equivalent exchange,” Al whispered. “Then what is Santos’ role?”

“In a way, I suppose he represents the hidden tax on life mankind must pay,” Luc said, still “dictating”. “He is the price we do not realize we pay. The existence of those who choose or are forced into the sides, poking their heads up when they believe there is a chance to find a way to escape this cycle. Some because they are good at it, others because it is all life allows them.”

“That sounds nice for a novel,” Al said, watching as a Nazi foot patrol made their way through the neighborhood. “Even if Santos can’t help us for free, why can’t he make things a little easier for what we’re doing?”

“A good question,” Luc said, glancing back at the courtyard. “We must keep a careful watch on hiwm, Alphonse.”

Al glanced back too, seeing Santos come out to watch the two walk away with that same knowing grin on his face.


	22. Chapter 21 – L’Ossuair

**Chapter 21 – L’Ossuair**

* * *

Havoc groaned as he scanned the abbey - field glasses would have helped, but his own eyes would have to do. He could see six radio masts sticking up in the sky, and at the front of the abbey were three rotating dish receivers. Two watchtowers stood at the property's front, the area filled with patrolling Nazis. The abbey proper reminded Havoc of a redoubt rather than a religious structure, a central spire reaching up from the grounds' heart.

“What do you think?” Mako said, laying in the grass next to Havoc. “It won’t be easy.”

“No, it won’t,” Havoc grunted. “Charging straight in won’t work. They’re actually paying attention this time. We need to think of something else.”

“Maybe a distraction?” Mako pointed to a steam engine running over tracks in a depression in front of the building. “We could blow up a train that’s running through, then come in from the back.”

“Might not work,” Havoc said. “We could wind up waiting too long for a train. A dozen things could change between now and blowing it up.”

“How about a distraction closer to the abbey?” Breda said. Havoc and Mako turned to see him crouched a few yards to the rear. “We found something off to the side of the abbey. Let’s get back to the village.”

* * *

It wasn’t a long drive back to the village near the abbey. The team soon found seats in a small café, sipping at acceptable coffee and eating decent sandwiches. Breda had drawn a rectangle of the abbey as he ate.

“This is the abbey, right?" he said between bites. "Well, there’s a control trailer for the radar off to the side. We take that out with a few explosives, we can move in and take the Nazis by surprise. All we do is ask the local resistance cell for help. They take out the sentries and plant the explosives to clear the way for us. Combined with them blowing the watchtowers at the front, they’ll have no idea what’s happening.”

“I like it,” Havoc said, nodding. “We’ll move in tomorrow, everyone got it?” The rest of the table also nodded.

The door to the café opened, and everyone heard a set of voices talking in German. Breda crumpled up the paper as a trio of SS officers came into the café. One of them rattled off a demand to the owner in French, the man nodding and hurrying to the back. The team was silent, sipping and chewing as the SS men laughed and bellowed in the small café.

The Amestrians glared at the SS, watching as they carried on like fools. Their uniforms were done up looking proper, but their manner was offensive. They looked like they were playing at being military. The owner of the café returned with three coffees, the SS borderline-shouting at him as they took their drinks and demanded food. The man nodded, hurrying away as the SS put their hands on their pistols. The trio returned to carrying on like college boys tearing through town. It wasn’t the laughing and talking that made Mustang's men angry - it was the way the officers did it. Not once did they act like professionals that should conduct themselves as such. They weren’t comrades getting lunch, but bullies swinging their authority about like a cudgel. 

Mako and Bolin weren’t quite as angry about the situation from the same place as the Amestrians. The shaking hands of the owner of the café? The sight of him motioning for someone to stay in the kitchen in the back and not be seen? It reminded them about their years watching the triads run Republic City. Both watched as the SS glanced back at the owner, lecherous grins growing across their faces. They called to the owner of the café, the man coming out of the back again.

The team was still silent at the trio asked the owner several questions. With each answer given, the man grew more nervous. The SS rose from their seats after, and followed the now-trembling man into the kitchen. Seconds later a young female voice came out of the back. Sean shot up from his seat, Mako and Bolin following him. Havoc groaned, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray on the table and following the three. They came in to see the SS men surrounding a young woman in an apron. Her eyes stayed locked on the floor until she realized there were three others in the kitchen.

Sean didn’t wait for the SS to demand who they were - he grabbed a pot from the stovetop and slammed it across a Nazi’s face. Bolin grabbed the SS nearest to him, slamming his fist across the man’s face before seeing a sink full of water. Spinning the Nazi around, he slammed him face-first into the sink. The Nazi’s face collided with the dishes with a loud, ceramic CRUNCH under the water as his arms flailed. Mako struck the third Nazi in the gut, pulling him away from the young woman before he sent a flurry of punches into the bastard’s face. The officer was backed against a wall, each punch doubling its impact by slamming his head into stone.

“Enough.” The three paused at the sound of Havoc’s voice. Havoc stepped into the kitchen, lighting up a fresh, terrible cigarette. “Great, you beat them up, now what do we do with them?”

“Sorry we didn’t let them do as they pleased to the girl,” Sean growled, glaring at Havoc. “You want us to put them back as they were?”

“No, but next time we agree this is what we’re gonna do,” Havoc said. “Tie them up and pack them away in the back of the cars. We’ll drop them with Wilcox before we get to work on the abbey.” Glaring at Bolin, then at Mako, Havoc went back into the dining room.

* * *

Havoc waited at the edge of the Nazi perimeter. His ears were perkd for the explosions that would cue the assault on the Abbey. Breda, Falman, and Fuery waited with him. The three already gone over their weapons earlier, and were sure they would work. Sean, Fuery, and Bolin waited by the small bridge over the rail line at the front of the abbey. Their position was riskier when it came to detection - they hoped the Nazis kept going about their duties.

To the side of the perimeter, a trio of Resistance fighters crept up on the trailer. A smaller spinning dish sat atop it, with a single Nazi patrolling around the trailer. Another monitored the road, the fighters creeping through the farm fields around it. Circling around the trailer and out of sight, they came up behind the two sentries. The fighters were quick to beat them down before planting explosives on the trailer. Lighting the fuse, they melted back into the fields, a blast ripping the trailer apart like paper.

Despite the noise, not one of the enemy reacted to the explosion. Another team of Resistance fighters came up to the depression. Two charges were set at the bases of a pair of watchtowers controlling the bridge over the railway line. Disappearing as soon as their job was done, barely a footprint was left for the Nazis to track them with.

Now it was time to act.

Havoc jumped up, catching another patrolling sentry with a burst to the right side. Breda and Fuery sprinted for the nearest aerial tower. Falman led Mako and Breda to the spinning dish receivers, and Havoc and Sean charged for the front of the abbey. The smoker and the Irishman mowed down any red armband they saw.

Breda and Fuery ducked behind the tower, planting a bundle of dynamite at the base. As Fuery lit the fuse, Breda covered him as the Nazis tried to figure out what was happening. Sirens blared about base, soldiers streaming out of the building. Havoc and Sean were waiting for them, cutting them down as they came out the front door. Falman led Mako and Bolin around the back, finding more Nazis in the back garden. Taking them down in a burst of gunfire, Falman covered the pair as they ran for the nearest radar mast.

The abbey was filled with shots and ricochets. Nazis everywhere were trying to respond to the chaos that surrounded them. Riflemen went to try and intercept the enemy, but Havoc and Sean outside caught them unawares. Explosions collapsed both towers, the dish receivers' fuel barrels going up in massive fireballs.

In the back of the abbey, Mako set another charge at the base of a tower. Bolin knocked a Nazi to the ground before shooting him in the chest with his shotgun. Falman was firing at a Nazi in a defensive position, his foe falling back on a massive artillery piece. “Mako, I need some dynamite!” he yelled, and Mako tossed him a stick, Falman sprinting down to the giant gun. Firing as he moved, Falman placed the sick among the controls for the cannon and lit the fuse. Sprinting back to the brothers, Falman ducked behind a tree as the TNT ripped open the cannon.

“Why’d you destroy that?!" Mako shouted. “Aren’t we going after the radar?”

“The more we destroy, the more they have to replace,” Falman shouted back, reloading his rifle.

Between the seven, they pressed through the grounds of the abbey clearing away the Nazis. The sound of screaming steel ripped through the countryside. Heaps of fresh scrap metal laid scattered about the religious complex's grounds. Havoc and Sean stayed at the front, watching for any more soldiers coming outside. The team met up with them soon enough, stinking of smoke and gunpowder.

“They’re all destroyed Havoc,” Breda said. “There’s nothing left of the radar equipment.”

“Then it’s time to go inside,” Sean said. “If we leave the nuns here, they’ll be easy prey for the SS when they come to investigate.”

[Havoc peeked inside the doorway.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Px1rfFz42I) He heard men shouting orders to each other inside. Wires were running from end to end across the corridors. “We’re going in,” Havoc said, putting a fresh magazine in his SMG. Chambering a round, he turned to Sean. “Whoever finds the nuns, get them out. We’re gonna destroy anything left inside before we get back in the village. Got it?”

“Got it,” Sean said, grinning as he leaned on the doorway. “This should earn us a few years out of purgatory, eh lads?”

Everyone stared at him, saying without words that none of them knew what he was talking about. “Christ, America really is a land of heathens,” the Irishman quipped as he and Havoc sprinted in.

Any Nazis standing in the corridors like idiots was soon taken down by Havoc and Sean. Coming to a junction, the team split. Havoc and Breda went straight ahead; Bolin, Falman, and Fuery went left. Mako and Sean went right, clearing the way as they ran. The Nazis didn’t have time to respond, still reeling by the attack outside. Shotgun shells tore apart their uniforms, rifle rounds walking up their chests.

One Nazi tried to strike from behind cover, jumping out in front of Fuery. The German batted Fuery’s weapon away, thinking he was going to at least kill one of the intruders. Fuery answered by shoving his body at the Nazi, pushing the larger man back into the stone wall. Kneeing the soldier in the gut and groin, Fuery threw the man to the ground. The Amestrian sent a hard kick across the man's face, grabbing his SMG before riddling the idiot.

Mako ducked behind a column along the corridor, rounds cracking the masonry. A pair of Nazis tried to head him off. Sean was behind another column on the other side and shouted, “The dynamite!” Mako nodded, pulling a stick out and throwing it. The Nazis screamed, sprinting out of cover. Sean leaned out and mowed them down as they tried to run. “Nice job Mako,” Sean yelled, sprinting ahead. “Never would’ve thought to not light the stick!”

Mako blinked, wondering why Sean was crazy enough to think lighting the dynamite was a good idea.

Shooting out the hinges on a massive wooden door, Havoc and Breda burst into a room in the back of the abbey. Inside was a quartet of Nazis manning a massive panel of electronic controls. The pair opened fire, sparks flying out of the electronics as the Nazis jerked and twitched. Staring at the controls, the pair looked at each other, then kept shooting at the panel.

“I’m wondering,” Breda said, turning away from the smoking console as he loaded some fresh shells. “You think the Nazis are kinda stupid when you get down to it?”

“You mean the same idiots that we’ve managed to shoot, blow up, run over, and beat to death?” Havoc chambered a round from another magazine. “Can’t imagine why you’d think that...."

Falman, Fuery, and Bolin came on a locked door guarded by a hulking brute. The trio ducked for cover, listening to the soldier laugh until his assault rifle ran dry. Bolin seized the chance, sprinting ahead at the Nazi. The soldier countered, grabbing Bolin by the shoulders and headbutting him with his helmet. Bolin shook his head clear, grinning up at the confused guard before giving a kick to the Nazi’s chest. As the sentry stumbled back, Bolin put a hail of blows across the man’s face. The sentry tried to swing back, but his wild haymakers did nothing when Bolin kept tanking the hits. That was when Bolin grabbed the Nazi’s arm and put one final cross on the Nazi’s left cheek.

Grabbing a set of keys off their foe’s belt, the trio opened the doors. A crowd of women, all dressed in white and black outfits, were huddled in prayer. They looked up, clasping beaded strings and asking a thousand questions in French. “C’mon, this way,” Falman shouted, Fuery and Bolin sprinting back the way they came. The nuns followed as the three ran into Sean and Mako, who were sprinting back as well. Sean grinned as he saw the group. Before he could say anything, Falman shouted, “Save the jokes, get them outta here!”

As the nuns filed out of the structure, Havoc and Breda ran up from their end. “That’s the nuns,” Havoc said. “Mako, any dynamite left?”

“I’ve got three sticks left,” Mako said. “Why?”

“Set them anywhere you find a console of electronics,” Havoc said, grabbing one of them. “C’mon, we’re almost done!”

Splitting the dynamite between them, they ran to wherever they found another console. Mako was sure the dynamite was placed right before lighting it. Havoc checked to make sure the room was clear before setting off the fuse. Sean was cackling as he lit his fuse and ran. The radar controls were blown to oblivion, but the single sticks of dynamite did nothing to the structure of the well-made abbey. The exceptions were the Nazi banners hanging on the walls, which burned quickly.

The trio sprinted out of the smoking building. They saw the nuns sprinting across the bridge ahead of them. Falman and Breda shot up a car trying to respond to the attack on the abbey. Mako and Bolin ran to guide the nuns down the road to the village, Fuery keeping watch to the rear.

“Haven’t had this much fun since I went to Derry,” Sean said. He was grinning as he turned to see the smoking remains of the Nazi installation. “Think that’s what Wilcox had in mind?”

“If it isn’t he’ll have to take what he gets,” Havoc said, grinning back. “His lazy ass didn’t help us.”

“Havoc, we’ve got a problem!” Fuery shouted. Turning, Havoc saw a sudden stream of Nazis sprinting toward them from behind the abbey.

“Shit, they must’ve come from the road,” Sean groaned. “What now?”

“What now?” Havoc grabbed Fuery and started sprinting. “Now we run!”

The team scrambled through the fields, sprinting through high wheat back to the village. They heard orders barked in German. Sirens wailed across the roads, the Nazis desperate to find the bastards who attacked their precious installation. The seven hoofed it across the farmlands, nearly getting hit by the tractors rolling through the fields. Soon the team made it back to the village, trying to find anywhere to hide. That was when they heard a man’s voice calling to them, and saw the café owner motioning for them to get inside.

Sprinting inside the café, the owner and the young woman from before set several plates and cups of coffee in front of them. They wasted no time grabbing the group's weapons and sprinting into the back. Bolin grinned, leaning over to Havoc. “Hey, look, the people we helped are giving us help in return. Hmm, could that be a factor? Maybe, huh, you think?”

Havoc, face set, grabbed his croissant and shoved it in Bolin’s open mouth. Bolin shrugged and started eating away as the Nazis sped by the café.

* * *

[Night was usually quiet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3CqsSuWMGQ8) for the front desk staff of the Ritz Paris. Wehrmacht and SS officers milled about the lobby, along with finely-dressed women and older men in expert-cut suits. These higher-ranked men occupied the majority of the rooms - there was little rush to book by anyone else. As long as turndown service was prompt and the restaurant's food was hot, the staff had little to fear. They went about life as best they could, avoiding any talk of the war out in the open and other undue attention. 

The usual lull was interrupted when the doors opened, a young woman in a red hat and trenchcoat storming in. Clutching a red handbag in her right hand, she stared about the lobby. A blonde woman in a plain tan coat and glasses came up behind her, hair done up in a harsh bun. “This is it?” the woman in red said, glaring around the lobby. “This is the famed Ritz Paris?”

“It is, miss,” the blonde woman said, pushing up her glasses. Two more women came in the door. A brown-skinned one carried a footlocker as the other hauled a massive suitcase. “Is something wrong?”

“I suppose it will do,” the woman in red said, rolling her eyes as she approached the front desk. “I was expecting more though.” Strolling up to the front desk, she glared down at the clerk from beneath the brim of her red aviatrix. 

“Asami Sato, checking in.”

“Oh, uh, one moment mademoiselle,” the clerk said, pulling out his register. He scanned through the check-ins, frowning a little. “You said your name was -- ”

“Asami Sato, weren’t you listening?” Asami said, leaning over the desk with a bitter look. “Do you have trouble understanding when a customer is talking?”

“No ma’am, of course not,” the clerk said, now glancing through the book as fast as he could. “It’s just -- I’m sorry, but there seems that name isn’t on our guest list.”

Asami’s eyebrow twitched. “What are you saying?” she growled, the clerk shuddering. “That my name wasn’t good enough to put on your precious little register?”

“O-Of course not Ms. Sato,” the clerk stammered, backing down. He noticed the Nazis were starting to stare at the commotion at the front desk. “We have a number of excellent suites available.”

“Well obviously I need a suite with three bedrooms,” Asami said, glaring down at the man. “Spirits, it’s no wonder they conquered your country so fast.” The clerk winced at the comment as he set to figuring out the arrangements.

“Excuse me, fräulein,” an older voice said. Asami turned to see an officer in a gray uniform blouse, gold and red shoulder boards matching his collar. A gold eagle atop a swastika sat on the right breast, two rows of ribbons above his left. Under his bottom left pocket, there was a badge of an eagle overtop a sword and stick grenade. Under the right, a gold star with a Nazi swastika in the center sat. A badge with a lanyard ran from the right shoulder to under his right lapel. Around his neck was what looked to Asami like a black malformed crosshair with a swastika in the center.

If any of this meant anything to Asami, she didn't show it. She looked downright bored as she turned to the man. “Yes?”

“I see you are having issue with the clerk,” he said, staring down at her with dispassionate eyes. “Is something the matter?”

“I’d say so,” Asami said, glaring over her shoulder. “These fools forgot my reservation, even though I saw to it I’d have it ready two months in advance.”

“Unfortunate,” the general said. “And you are…?”

“Asami Sato,” she said, flipping the switch on her charm as she held out her hand. “Daughter of Hirsohi Sato, of the Mirai Concern. You’ve heard of my father, of course?”

“I’m afraid not, fräulein,” the general said, taking Asami’s gloved hand and kissing it. “General Karl Eckhardt, garrison commander for the Paris Occupation District.”

“A pleasure,” Asami said, only the barest hint of condescension on her words. “I’m sorry to have caused such a commotion, but it’s rather insulting to face these kinds of problems. Especially when a hotel is billed as one of the finest in Paris.”

“Quite,” Eckhardt said, glancing behind Asami. “And who are your companions?”

“Bridget Hammersmark,” Asami said, the blonde nodding to the general. “She’s my personal secretary and assistant while I’m in Europe. The other two are my servants, Korra and May.”

“Then it is a pleasure to welcome you to Paris,” Eckhardt said. “It is my sincere hope that your time here is enjoyable.”

“I hope the same,” Asami said, taking her hat off to shake her hair out. “It was a long trip to get here through Spain.”

“Ah, who is this?” Both of them turned, and Asami had to stop herself from reacting. In the door of the hotel walked Kurt Dierker, dressed in his black SS uniform. He also bore a swastika-and-crosshair symbol under his neck, a gold badge emblazoned with a black “SS” under his right breast. Accompanying him was a black-haired woman in leather pants and a corset.

“Ah, Dierker,” Eckhardt said, glaring down his nose at the SS officer. “Congratulations on your promotion. It was fortunate that this was official before the wedding incident.”

“Yes, thank you,” Dierker said, everyone noticing his jaw tighten. “And who is this?”

“Ms. Sato,” Eckhardt said. “Our guest from Japan.”

“Ah, O ai dekite kōeidesu.” Even if Asami could tell if what he’d said was right, his heavy German accent made it a tortured speech.

“Your pronunciation needs more work,” Asami said, rolling her eyes. “I think we should stick with English while I’m here. I don’t want to offend anyone by speaking your language when I clearly can’t, after all.”

“Of course,” Eckhardt said, glaring at Dierker. Dierker glared right back, the air filled with a sudden heaviness.

“Your English is almost impeccable,” the leather-clad woman said. She stepped up from beside Dierker. “Where did you learn to speak so well?”

“Harvard,” Asami said. “Studying economics. My father insisted I stay a quiet wallflower, but I convinced him to let me study in America. And, you are?”

“Sturmbannfuhrer Franziska Becker,” the woman said, shaking Asami’s hand. “A pleasure.” Her tone made it clear this was anything but.

“Ms. Sato?” Asami glared back at the desk clerk. “I’m sorry miss, but we do need a deposit in order to secure the room for you.”

“You’re saying you lost my deposit as well?” Asami looked like she was going to launch off on the clerk, before turning to her personal assistant. “Give him some of our spending money.” The blonde nodded, reaching into her bag and pulling out a wad of Nazi currency. Asami noticed Dierker and Eckhardt were staring at the money with wide eyes.

“Thank you,” the clerk said, smiling a little. “Shall we have your bags sent up to your suite?”

“My girls will take them,” Asami said, sneering at the clerk. “After how poorly you’ve handled my reservation, I shudder to imagine your staff handling my luggage.” Holding out her hand, Asami didn’t wait for the clerk to give her the room keys. Snatching them away, she snapped her fingers to Korra and May and pointed to the stairs. The pair bowed and went with the blonde assistant. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you all,” Asami said, bowing to the trio. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other in time.” Blowing them a kiss and winking, Asami spun around, her hair flying through the air as she went for the stairs.

It was a short trip through the opulent halls to their suite. Asami kept her nose up so she could look down it as she opened the door to the suite. As she unlocked the door, she was surprised to hear faint voices in her room. Motioning for everyone to wait, she turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. She leaned in with the door, peering around it to see if there was any sign of trouble. The suite was dark, the only light coming in from the streetlamps near the windows. Asami put her hand on her handbag, ready to draw on whoever was inside --

A crash sounded in the bathroom, followed by a Nazi officer sprinting at the door. Asami would've put her pistol on him, if it weren’t for the fact he was running out with his shirt and blouse in his hands. Pulling his suspenders up as he fled, a middle-aged woman in a disheveled fine dress followed him seconds later. Her mussed hair flopped about her head as she too hurried out. Face still cold, Asami waited for everyone to get inside before she walked into the suite. 

Locking the door, walking into the main room, Asami fell against the nearest wall. Eyes wide, she gasped out, “What was that?!”

“An older woman seeking a thrill,” Skylar said, letting her hair cascade out of her bun.

“Not that,” Asami groaned, rolling her wide eyes. “That, in the lobby! What was Dierker doing down there?”

“This is the Ritz,” Skylar said. “If he’s a ranking SS officer, it only makes sense that he’d be present here.”

“Yeah, but he was way too close to us,” Korra said, looking as shocked as Asami. “I mean, he was at the wedding, I recognized his face!”

“He didn’t recognize any of us,” May said, as unperturbed as Skylar was by such a meeting. “That was great acting by the way, you really had them fooled.”

“Well, I hope we don’t have to keep this up too long,” Asami groaned, shuffling over to the couch and falling onto it.

May shook her head at the pair. “Really? You think this is as bad as it can get? This is nothing compared to what my cousins have gone through when they’ve been openly invited to another clan’s holdings. They haven’t even threatened our lives yet.”

Asami and Korra stared at May for a second before Korra said, “What is wrong with your home?”

May shrugged. “Why do you think Ling is trying to reform our government?”

Asami groaned, covering her eyes as she started to slide down the couch. “Skylar, how exactly are we gonna sabotage the Nazis by being part of their upper class?”

“Eckhardt controls one of the most effective arms companies in Germany,” Skylar said. She threw off her jacket and began unbuttoning the top buttons on her blouse. “It’s what gained him a generalship. The Nazis appreciate effective administration when it’s used against someone else.”

“But he seems to have an enmity with Dierker,” May said.

“He should,” Skylar said. “Dierker was another driver before Eckhardt found him, turning him into the peak of ‘Aryan skill’. Of course, that’s all a lie. Dierker drives dirty, and has a whole team to back him up if he has trouble.”

“He’s a racer?” Asami perked up. “Maybe that can be our in? I’m pretty good behind the wheel of a race car. Maybe I can use that to get on his good side. Then when we’re done, I play up to Eckhardt on the industrial side of his operations?”

“Careful, it sounds like you’ll have to be around the people you’re afraid of,” May said, her voice a sing-song taunt.

“As much as I’m enjoying the fun of watching you three argue with each other,” Skylar said, moving for the bathroom, “I need to wash off the stink of all the cheap cologne those fools wear.” Strutting in, it wasn't long before there was a laugh from inside. Skylar reappeared in the doorway with three pill bottles, all either full of half-full. “I think we interrupted a long night of fun for those two.”

“And they use some kind of weird drugs...” Korra groaned, facepalming. “I’m really starting to hate these guys. I call next shower.”


	23. Chapter 22 - Gamesmanship

**Chapter 22 - Gamesmanship**

* * *

“And that’s the current situation sir,” Havoc said, staring into the camera of the remaining MALP in the alley. “If anything goes wrong, Asami and her team will escape with the British back to the north of the city and we’ll plan out a new strategy from there.”

He waited for the next note to come flying out of the gate. Veronique was waiting with him, glaring at the robot. Havoc had decided to bring her along to see if the SGC had anything else to use her for. Mako was busy watching the street, making sure there wouldn’t be any more surprises.

The note flew out, and Havoc read, “What about Alphonse Elric?”

“He’s working closely with the Resistance leader,” Havoc said. “Luc has a plan to try and unify the resistance cells in Paris.”

The next note said, “Are you securing supplies from the SOE?”

“No, looks like we’re gonna keep using the black marketeer, Santos.” Havoc shrugged, smoking another cigarette. “Personally I don’t like it, but better Santos keeps coming to buy from us than worry about losing his income.”

Another note, reading, “We would like to speak with Ms. Rousseau.”

Havoc nodded, and showed the note to Veronique. She sighed and stepped forward to the camera. “Well, I’m here.”

The next note: “We are sorry to get you mixed up in this miss. It was our hope to have our people out of your nation before things got any worse.”

“It’s too late for that,” Veronique said, shaking her head. “Sean is dangerous, but he is only one man. Thanks to the help of your teams, the Resistance has a stronger chance against the Nazis. I’m not happy with being lied to, but I do accept that this is what we need to defeat the fascists.”

The note: “Understand, once we secure the means to retrieve our people, they will return.”

“Of course,” Veronique said, sighing. “It’s not like any of us could stop a force like this anyway.”

“We’re still trying to help stop the Nazis,” Havoc said, stepping up to the MALP again. “I’ll go back to the SOE and see about finding more means to destabilize their hold in the region. Once we get an update from Asami, we’ll leave a signal in front of the MALP. Recommend dialing every two days, is that acceptable?”

The next note: “Acceptable.”

“Roger sir,” Havoc said, nodding to the camera. “We’ll get moving on that. Havoc out.”

As the gate closed, Veronique shook her head. “I still can’t believe this. You’re from some other world, but not from space.”

“Worlds, plural,” Havoc said, smoking as he went along back to the Belle. “Besides, this isn’t the worst thing that could happen. If you were really unlucky, this could’ve been a force that makes the Nazis look like a street gang.”

“Shows what you know,” Veronique scoffed. “A street gang is what the Nazis started out as. Brown-shirted brawlers beating down anyone that didn’t agree with them.”

“Once a thug, always a thug,” Havoc said. “Mako, I’m gonna take Breda, get Sean, and go talk to the Brits on the coast. Keep an eye on things here while we’re gone.”

“Right,” Mako said. “Are you sure we shouldn’t be worried about Korra and Asami?”

“Please, tough tough-as-nails women like them?” Havoc grinned, taking his cigarette out and blowing a long plume of smoke from his lips. “I’m sure they’re making life hell for those swastika-wearing jackasses.”

* * *

Asami sighed, preparing herself to step back into the hotel. She was wearing a sharp dress that Skylar had chosen, a blood-red number that still allowed some freedom of movement under her dark-red coat.

Korra was at the door, dressed in her plain blouse and skirt. “Ready?”

“Almost,” Asami sighed, taking a breath. Gripping the brim of her aviatrix, she took a look out the peephole. “I can’t see anyone.”

“Then we’d best not waste time,” Skylar said, checking the mirror in the room to see that her bun was properly made before turning to the door. “Even for a vacationing heiress, being in your room past ten is pushing believable. Especially since you haven’t attended any parties yet.”

“Ugh, that’s a great mental image,” Asami groaned. “Going to a party with these monsters? I’d rather eat that trash stew again.”

“Well, that does sound like an entertaining story,” Skylar said, grinning before she became Bridget Hammersmark again. “Now, shall we go Ms. Sato?”

Asami took a second, putting on her mask. She shrouded her empathy and kindness behind a veil of self-centered attitude and disdain for “lesser” people. She’d seen it plenty of times before, all across the Republic City socialite scene. Taking a final breath, she walked into the hall with Skylar and Korra.

She walked with her head cocked high, a dismissive gaze meeting anyone she encountered in the halls. The staff of the hotel bowed their heads and scurried away, while any guests that met her gaze returned the same look. Walking through the lobbey, she ignored the looks coming her way from the younger officers. They stared at her like she’d seen Bolin staring at a fresh bowl of noodles. Only Bolin staring at the noodles didn’t make her skin crawl.

She realized that some of them were also looking at Skylar and Korra. They gave Skylar the same look, but there was something different about the look she saw them giving Korra. It was more predatory, more dangerous. She wasn’t a woman to them, Asami felt it was like they saw her as something less. Like a wounded prey animal, ready to be taken the second there was nothing left to protect her.

The streets in central Paris were less oppressive, but that was like saying Cabbage Corp goods were more reliable than anything from Varrick. Watch towers and heavy guns were positioned across the center of the city, the incessant droning of zeppelin engines echoing above the streets.

“ _This city looks like it could be beautiful if it weren’t for the occupation,_ ” Asami thought, glancing at a dress shop. The mannequins inside were displayed in expertly tailored dresses, flowing skirts combined with form-fitting tops. The finest materials were used, silks and satins and fine chiffon.

“Watch yourself,” Skylar said in her German accent. “Your mask is dropping.”

Asami reapplied her scowl, Skylar was right about this. It wouldn’t do for word to filter back to the Ritz that the heiress wasn’t the terror she portrayed herself in the hotel. Even as she watched Nazi soldiers demanding Parisians stop and present proof of who they were. Catching a Nazi soldier slam the butt of his rifle into the stomach of a man on the street.

It suddenly wasn’t hard to keep up her disdainful expression.

“I’d recommend we stop in and retrieve some evening wear for you,” Skylar said. “The Nazi upper-class prefer to throw rather excessive parties for themselves. It wouldn’t do for you to wear your street clothes for any of their events.”

“Fine, if we must,” Asami said, scanning the shops. “You’re the one who knows France, which one would be the best?”

“I’d recommend Chanel,” Skylar said. “From the information I’ve seen, her work is well regarded among the Nazi high command.”

* * *

Al and Luc were talking over a map of the city when the door to the basement opened. “Ah, my friends,” Santos said, his profiteering grin mocking the fighters around him. “I trust your efforts are going well?”

“Well enough,” Luc said, returning Santos’ grin with a polite smile. “We have been contacted by a cell in the west of the city. It seems they are interested in joining us.”

“Ah, then you certainly will need those transit papers,” Santos said. “Which is why I’m here.”

“But you don’t have the papers out,” Al said. “Did something go wrong?”

“A minor issue my friends,” Santos said. Even if his tone tried to sound apologetic, his face didn’t follow. “Some of my supplies have been undercut, my cigarettes and booze can’t compete with what the Nazis get through their own supply officers. If my business goes under, so do your supplies of weapons. Which is why I'm particularly concerned about a convoy of these goods about to arrive at the Nazi quartermaster's office.”

“Then you want another trade,” Luc said, glaring at Santos. “We eliminate this convoy, and you give us the papers.”

“Exactly,” Santos said, smiling at the pair. “That is no great task for you, is it?”

Al saw Luc’s expression deepen, and saw from the corner of his eyes some of the fighters turn downhearted. Still, Santos kept that same grin, paying no mind to the fact that he’d struck a hard nerve on the group.

“No,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “No, this isn’t a fair exchange.”

“ _Que,_ ” Santos said, staring at Al. “What, you thought the Nazis would be fair to you?”

“Of course not, but you’re acting like we’re captives,” Al said, staring to gain traction in his voice. “You’re forgetting that we’re here, along with the British. We didn’t set up our own supply lines because of the difficulties involved. We thought you would be rational enough to realize that working with us was the better option.”

“ _Oui,_ Alphonse is correct,” Luc said, his voice growing confident. “Tell me Santos, how much business would you lose if we started to pursue our needs through the Americans or British?”

Santos blinked, his grin faltering for the first time Al had seen. He set his jaw and went on, saying, “We are willing to work with you Santos, but it has to start becoming more equivalent. Taking out an entire Nazi convoy doesn’t equal getting us forged papers, and you know it. If you’re going to ask Luc’s people for assistance, you’re going to make it worth their efforts.”

“He is right,” Luc said. “Perhaps, along with the papers, you can secure intelligence for our forces? It would be helpful to have marked Nazi positions across the Nazi’s zone of control.”

Santos stared at Luc, then his grin crept back over his face. “Of course, that would be more beneficial to us after all. The less ability the Nazis have to keep watch over the city, the easier it is to move my merchandise around. Very well, once the convoy is destroyed? I will give you the papers you need and as many positions as my people can find.”

“Then we agree,” Luc said. “Where is the convoy?”

“I can at least bribe one of the drivers to suffer some ‘mechanical failure’ along the Canal St. Martin,” Santos said. “It will be ready for the ambush in two days. Don't destroy these goods though. I’ll need them if I’m going to keep my network of sales associates operating.”

“Then you’d better be ready to carry out your end of the deal,” Al said, glaring at Santos. The Spaniard bowed and turned to the door, either ignoring or actually oblivious to the glares from the Resistance fighters around him.

“That was a good ploy _mon ami_ ,” Luc said. “He will be hesitant to attempt another such ploy against us. Yet, you didn’t mention the explosives you have already provided us with?”

“He doesn’t need to know about those,” Al said, his placid face concealing the panic that shot through his heart. “What he needs to remember is that we aren’t his servants in this.”  
  


“I concur,” Luc said, looking back to the map. “We must place this well, Alphonse. Our success will only mean the growth of the Resistance.”

“ _And hopefully Havoc won’t hurt me for making a mistake,_ ” Al thought.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon by the time Havoc, Breda, and Sean came up to Le Havre. They walked inside the church to see Wilcox and one of the local Resistance fighters talking in French. When he saw the trio walking in, he shook his head at the sight of them. Finishing up with the Resistance fighter, he strode to meet the two in the center of the church. “I don’t fucking believe it,” he whispered. “He’s back.”

“Told you I’d wipe that smile off your face,” Sean said, a haughty smile plastered over his mug.

“Well, since you lot haven’t managed to kill yourselves yet,” Wilcox said, motioning for them to follow him to the back. “How about another job?”

“Well, I never quit when I’m ahead,” Sean said, grinning as they walked into the back. “My luck’s running hot right now.”

“We’ll see about that,” Wilcox said, moving behind his desk. “The Jerries have been refurbishing an old chemical refinery on the Seine riverfront. The old man smells a rat, and so do I.”

Sean’s eyebrow went up. “What sorta rat?”

Wilcox’s expression turned dark as night. “Chemical weapons, nerve gas. The bastards will stoop to any level as long as it means they don’t lose, use any weapon no matter how sinister or cowardly.”

“And I suppose the Brits don’t go in for that sort of thing?” Sean asked. Havoc noticed his tone softened slightly.

“Why of course not,” Wilcox said, his voice turning to a mocking sweetness. “We preferred if murder remains a gentleman’s sport.”

“Especially during wartime,” Sean spat.

“War is murder writ large,” Wilcox shot back. “Kill one man or a thousand, only matters if it’s the enemy’s men instead of yours.” Havoc couldn’t argue the point, even if Sean looked like he hated hearing it.

“It would depend on who’s doing the killing versus the dying,” Sean said, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear.

“You might be right Irish,” Wilcox said. “But we can wax philosophical when you get back. If you lot get back.”

“Count on it,” Sean growled.

Breda waited until they were walking out through the church before he said anything. “Chemical weapons, that’s another stupid move from these guys.”

“How’s that?” Sean asked, opening the doors to the church.

“Chemical weapons are dangerous to handle, and when deployed they’re as dangerous to your own forces as the enemy.” Breda stopped, leaning against the front of the church. “I think we need to talk to Bolin, ask him what he knows about this.”

“Lad does seem to know a lot about the Nazis,” Sean said, puffing away. “He’s got some grudge against them?”

“He had to deal with some people he knew deciding the way the Nazis do things was the way to run a country.” Havoc took out his own cigarette and lit up. “There’s a reason this is so personal to him.”

“I can’t blame him,” Sean said. “Seems the bastards love making things personal for anyone against them.”

“We’ll still need to be careful,” Breda said. “If there’s any functional chemical substances in the refinery, we could be risking our own lives if we try and go after it.”

“We’ll scope out the plant after Luc starts moving to make contact with the other cells,” Havoc said. “C’mon, let’s get back to Paris.”

* * *

Eckhardt was reading over a report regarding production rates in his office in the Parthenon when his phone started ringing. “Gen. Eckhardt…Ah, I was expecting your report…” Eckhardt was silent as the voice on the other end spoke. “Are you sure?... _Mein Gott_ , that bastard…Yes, this will be answered…Ah, I’m afraid not, my wife will be visiting the chateau...Indeed…Very well, goodbye.” Shoving the receiver back into the cradle, Eckhardt rubbed at his eyes and shuffled away from his desk. He could use a lunch at the Ritz.

Moving downstairs, he saw his men standing loyally in front of the Parthenon on guard. Since the bombing attack on the office at the Palais Royale he’d seen that further guards were put in place. No one was going to get into his headquarters without his knowing about it, and not without a thorough search.

Settling into the back of his staff car, he watched Parisian cityscape speed by. He hated the city, the dizzying layout of streets and side-streets and centuries old goat paths turned into boulevards. Were it his choice, he’d have seen the city razed, and turn the steel of the Eiffel Tower into a dozen 88mm guns. Of course, that was still some time away yet. Once the situation on the Ostfront was resolved and the British starved, the Wehrmacht would be unleashed once again.

Pulling up to the Ritz, he stepped out of his car to see Asami Sato striding back to the front door. Her personal secretary and one of her servants walked behind her, the servant looking like she was struggling to handle an armful of boxes and bags from the finer shops of Paris.

“Ms. Sato,” he called out, motioning for his driver to wait behind him. “I see Paris agrees with you.”

“Ah, Gen. Eckhardt,” Asami said, giving a polite smile to Eckhardt. “You can’t blame me, I hope. Being able to partake of the fine fashion and culture of Paris is something a young woman can’t resist.”

“No, certainly not,” Eckhardt said, smiling as he approached. “You appear to have found great success then. I trust your servant has no trouble?”

“No, she is more than capable of handling this,” Asami said, not turning back to see Korra fighting to keep everything in her hands. “I wouldn’t trust young May to be able to handle this.”

“Indeed,” Eckhardt said. “I hope then that this is a learning experience for your servants. An exposure to European culture may help teach them of proper civilization.”

“Most certainly,” Asami said, pouting a little. She was glad the boxes covered Korra’s face, the avatar’s expression was probably a mask of rage right now. “They’re poor unfortunates after all, the need us to guide them into the right way of things.”

“Quite,” Eckhardt said, a haughty smile spreading over his face.

Asami was quick, turning the twitch in her lip into a grin. “Bridget, lead Korra back to the room please? I’d like to speak with Gen. Eckhardt.”

Skylar nodded, grasping Korra’s arm and leading her through the doors. She thought she saw Korra’s reflection in the glass mouth, “You’re gonna get it when we get home.”

“Well, this is fortuitous,” Eckhardt said, smiling as he led Asami into the hotel. “I was about to take lunch, pleasant company should only make the meal more enjoyable.”

“ _I’d rather clean up Pabu’s box,_ ” Asami thought, following Eckhardt into the Ritz. Taking a breath, Asami reapplied her mask and said, “I must admit general, I’m impressed by the security of Paris. Even with a resistance in the city, you’ve managed to still ensure the dominance of your occupation in the region.”

“You flatter me,” Eckhardt said, his face filling with disappointment. “In truth, this group of terrorists and criminals vexes us. Worry not however, I can promise you will be kept safe during your stay.”

“ _I know, Korra would kill you if I wasn’t_ ,” she thought, following Gen. Eckhardt to the front of the restaurant. The maître’d bowed at the waist and motioned Eckhardt and Asami into the restaurant. The dining room was ornate to the best ideals of the word, long curtains and drapes hanging down in recesses. Asami wondered if they were only decoration, or if they were to conceal the people at those tables. Conversation echoed all around her, mixing with the clatter of utensils and gentle clinks of crystal glasses. Officers and dignitaries and their women mixed together in a tapestry, reminding Asami of the galas where the elite of Republic City would gather and mingle. Then, like now, she wished that she was back in her workshop or out in the city instead.

“Your table, general,” the maître’d said, bowing as they came to a table in the center of the dining room. It was a quartet of lounges, centered around a floral arrangement under a crystal chandelier. The maître’d snapped his fingers, and a pair of white-coated waiters came over and took away two of the chairs on the other side of the table. Leaving Asami to sit on the same lounge as Eckhardt.

“Ah, I hope you have an appetite,” Eckhardt said, still smiling as he sat down on the lounge. “Some of the dishes are questionable, but it is a better experience than trying to find a meal in the city.”

Asami was placid as she took her own seat, setting her hat down over the pocketbook. “I’m sure the food here is more than acceptable,” she said, playing demure. “I’ve found out a few things about you general, I must admit that I was impressed. Your efforts to organize manufacturing in this conflict are welcome to know.”

“Please, my name is Karl,” Eckhardt said, smiling at Asami as a waiter came up with a pitcher of water and two menus. “As for my efforts, I’m afraid that I’m only a part of the war effort.”

“A valuable part regardless,” Asami said, nodding to the waiter as her glass was filled. “My father asked me to make a small effort to speak with some leaders of industry while I’m on my trip. He was especially focused on my asking about streamlined manufacturing processes. Meeting you was rather fortunate in that respect. I’d very much like to see what your techniques are.”

Eckhardt fumbled with his glass a moment, the waiter stone-faced as he refilled the glass in the general’s hands. “Yes, well,” Eckhardt said, setting the glass down as he grabbed a napkin. “Unfortunately, my factory in Germany has been seconded to a special project. We will be assisting the SS. I am sorry, but I cannot show you anything.”

“Oh, such a shame,” Asami pouted as she grabbed her menu. “I’m sure this must sound silly, but I’m still having trouble with French. Can you help a young lady?”

“ _Jawohl_ ,” Eckhardt said, smiling as he moved closer to Asami. She could suddenly understand why Skylar had wanted to wash the stink of cheap cologne off when they first arrived. “Ah, this is a personal favorite of mine. If you’ll permit me to order?” Asami nodded, and Eckhardt called our, “ _Garcon!_ ”

A waiter hurried over to the table, a notepad already in-hand. “Two plates of _Tête de veau_ , make sure the chef prepares it hot.” The waiter bowed, scribbling down the order and moving for the kitchen.

“While we wait,” Asami said, sipping from her own glass. “I was hoping to at least discuss some of your methods. My father is trying to development more powerful weapons, but my government won’t hear of it.”

“If you’ll forgive me, your government is right,” Eckhardt said. “For all their cultural faults, our enemies have mastered technical production in a way that I have been trying to emulate.”

“It’s brave of you to admit this openly,” Asami said, unbuttoning her coat. “Some would call any admission of a failing like this to be dangerous.”

“Admitting reality is no threat,” Eckhardt said, head high. “The British rule the seas, the American factories are safe from any threat, even the Soviets have massed reserves of men to throw at us. The only means by which we can win are through utilizing the power of Germany’s own industry.”

“Then how do you plan on countering them,” Asami said. “These are three major powers we all face.”

“True, but they lack leadership,” Eckhardt said. “The Americans, for example. Their soldiers are untrained, soft. It is only in the past few months that their leadership in North Africa has become even partially competent. They expect a ‘cowboy’ who still believes in cavalry to save their campaign alongside the British.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate Americans,” Asami said. “After my time with them, I’ve picked up more than a few things. As you said, their industry is well-defended. They also have a troubling habit of seizing from the ideas of their foes. The more you wage war against them, the more they’ll learn about and from you.” Asami took a moment to savor the look of existential dread that flashed across Eckhardt’s face.

“At any rate,” Eckhardt said, clearing his throat. “Tell me, what was your father’s primary market share before the war?”

“Commercial vehicles,” Asami said. “We even expanded into aircraft, though the war curtailed some of those efforts.”

“Yes, I have heard of the Japanese concept of ‘zaibatsu’,” Eckhardt said, Asami playing cool. “You need not fear judgement here, Ms. Sato. Like your father, my own company’s efforts were curtailed by favorites of the party. Still, those like us who see reality will soon be able to correct the mistakes made in this war.” Sipping his water again, Eckhardt thought for a moment. “Perhaps, however, I can do something else for you? My wife and children will be coming to visit soon, and I was planning on hosting a party at my chateau in the region. I would be honored if you could attend as, well, let us call you an unofficial representative of your country.”

Asami had to fight her grin from turning into a grimace. “I’ll have to check with Bridget, you understand, but it would be a wonderful excuse to put on my new evening wear.” Eckhardt smiled, the same smile Asami had seen earlier from the younger officers.

“Ah, our meal,” he said, Asami turning to see a waiter walking up with a silver tray and two plates. Asami noticed that the meat looked like a thick slice off whatever animal had supplied it. As soon as the waiter was away, Eckhardt dove in with relish.

Asami tried to play the proper lady, taking a small slice off the meat and trying it. “I’ve never had a dish like this before,” she said. “What is it?”

“I suspect this was a fresh calf's head,” Eckhardt said, Asami fighting back the sudden urge to spit out her bite. “Still, they can’t prepare it as they do back in Saarbrücken.”

“What a shame,” Asami said, staring down at her full plate.


	24. Chapter 23 - Answers and Questions

**Chapter 23 - Answers and Question**

* * *

Al rubbed at his eyes, pulling himself up from the bed in the Belle. Tucking his shirt back in and pulling his suspenders back over his shoulders, he made his way into the main room.

He walked out to see Havoc was already eating on the second floor, a single croissant and cup of coffee for his morning meal. “Hey Al,” he said, looking up with a smile. “How’s it going with Luc?”

“I’ll tell you after we do more of Santos’ dirty work,” Al said, sighing as he took one of the chairs at the table. “Havoc, why are we working with Santos?”

“Well, it’s pragmatism really,” Havoc said, shrugging. “He’s slime, but he’s useful slime. We can’t supply the resistance from the SGC, only ourselves. We’d have to explain to the British how we’re supplying these amazing high-tech weapons when the American military probably isn’t using anything like what we’d get Luc’s boys.”

“Oh,” Al said, his heart falling.

Havoc blinked, looking up from his croissant. “Al, did something happen that I might not like?”

“Maybe,” Al said. “Santos tried to extort us for the papers we’d need, said we needed to destroy a Nazi supply convoy for him. I kinda bluffed by saying we were only using him because he was the cheaper option.”

Havoc groaned, facepalming as he set his breakfast down. “Al, c’mon, didn’t you think he might call you on it?”

“I couldn’t help it,” Al groaned, slamming his face onto the table. “All I could think about was equivalent exchange. He’s expecting so much of us, and all we get in return is a few scraps he throws us.”

“And you jeopardized that by reminding him there’s other sources for the Resistance to go to,” Havoc said, shaking his head. “You should’ve checked with me first Al. Still, you’re not wrong.” Al looked up as Havoc continued. “Santos needs to remember that we’re his best customers around here, not that he’s our only supplier. Keep an eye on what he’s doing from now on. And for God’s sake Al, don’t slip up like that again.”

Al grinned a little and said, “You mean like how you let it slip that we’re from another dimension?”

“Eh, fair point,” Havoc said, lighting a fresh cigarette. “Seriously though, watch out with Santos. Push him too hard, he could undercut us when we don’t need it. Now, what’s this about a convoy?”

“Oh, right,” Al said. “Santos said there’s a German supply convoy coming in, he said it’s carrying cigarettes and alcohol.”

“No, they wouldn’t only be carrying that,” Havoc said, a grin growing across his face. “You said Santos is only worried about the cigarettes and booze?” Al nodded. “Then all he’ll get are cigarettes and booze. Understand?”

“I’ll tell Luc the same thing,” Al said. “What about you?”

“The British want us to take out a chemical weapons facility,” Havoc said. “I was hoping to talk to Bolin actually, have you seen him?”

“Not for a while,” Al said, looking around the Belle. “Is he alright?”

“Judge is still deciding,” Havoc said, tapping off some ash.

“Good morning gentlemen,” Vittore said, walking up to the pair. “Another successful night I hope?”

“Yeah, we got enough sleep for a change,” Havoc said, shrugging. “What about you? Keeping yourself busy?”

“As best I can,” Vittore sighed, taking a seat. “Trying to fix what cars come in. The Rousseaus have been gracious enough to let me work in their garage. Not many people want their cars repaired though, thanks to Nazi rationing they barely have enough fuel to justify driving.”

“At least you’re trying,” Havoc said. “Most people would’ve given up after what you’ve been through.”

“Ah, I’m too stubborn I suppose,” Vittore said, waving his hand. “With luck, the Nazis will be defeated and we will be able to move on. Maybe I could even return to Italy.” Al smiled at Vittore, he could feel for the want to go home and stay there.

“Well, hopefully we’ll all be doing our own little part to end it,” Havoc said, going back to his croissant.

One of the doors on the second floor opened, Bolin stretching as he shuffled out. Eyes half-closed, he was bent forward as he shuffled to the tables. He grumbled something as he fell into one of the seats at the table, head lolling about.

“Morning sunshine,” Havoc said, grinning. “Sleep well?”

  
Bolin groaned, shifting his whole body to turn to Havoc. “What’d the British say?”

“Chemical weapons plant,” Havoc said. “Vittore, sorry to be rude, but…”

“Of course,” Vittore said, smiling as he rose from the table. “Some things should be beyond the scope of a simple mechanic. Good luck gentlemen.”

As Vittore walked off, Bolin started to wake up. “Chemical weapons?”

“Yeah,” Havoc said, blowing out some fresh smoke. “Brits said they set it up along the Seine River. Did the Nazis use chemical weapons?”

“No, not on the battlefield,” Bolin said, his voice and expression turning dark. “This is part of their efforts to kill off anyone they don’t consider human, Havoc.”

Havoc took another long drag, Al watching as his expression turned dark. “Then let’s go scope this place out. Al, when’s the convoy going to be attacked?”

“Tomorrow,” Al said. “What are you thinking?”

“Same thing as the wedding,” Havoc said. “C’mon Bolin, let’s go to work.”

* * *

“Bloody gas attacks now,” Sean grumbled, walking alongside the team to the chemical refinery. It hadn't taken long to scope out the target yesterday, now it was time to strike. “And you’re saying they aren’t even using them on soldiers?”

“Hitler was exposed to gas during his time in the German Army in World War I,” Bolin said, glaring down at the floor of the car. “To him, it was wrong to use these kinds of weapons on the battlefield. Innocent people? That was fine.” Everyone was scowling by the time they arrived at their target, a grimy industrial area on the riverside. Large cranes sat ready to load barges and boats with the deadly products of the Nazis work.

“Remember, we need to eliminate the Nazis around the plant before we do anything else,” Havoc said. “Even if they aren’t actually made, whatever’s used to make these chemicals could mess us all up. Don’t set any explosives until we’re sure the Nazis on site are all dead. Once everything is prepared, we’re gonna run like hell in the other direction and circle around back into the city. Understood?” Everyone nodded.

They’d found a perfect way in, a brick wall along the river near the refinery. An ignored one, because parts of it were crumbling, missing sections of rusting barbed wire. Checking around the street to make sure no Nazis would see them, the seven clambered over the wall and pulled their weapons from their canvas bundles.

The main body of the refinery was a concrete shell, a massive steel sphere in the center acting as the main storage tank for the gas. Several smaller tanks, but still large enough to loom overhead, fed the raw materials to the central tank in the central structure. There were watchtowers looking over the street, but the guards were focused on watching the streets and not the interior of their perimeter.

Moving up to the rear of the main facility, Havoc peered around and saw a pair of black-uniformed SS standing at the door. Neither one wearing any gas masks or protective equipment. Ducking back, he chambered a round in his Tommy Gun and took a breath. Then he leaned around the corner and cut them down.

Screams and sirens started to sound out in the refinery, Nazis streaming toward the shooting. That was fine, since it drew them toward the team. Breda and Bolin were in the door, cutting down Nazis trying to respond to the fire at the rear of the facility. Each one was SS, firing on the door to little effect. Bolin and Breda kept behind the concrete, leaning around from their cover every few seconds to fire into the main building.

Havoc and the rest of the team sprinted deeper into the area, and Havoc’s face fell when he saw more chemical tanks waiting for him. “Dammit,” he snarled, looking over the dozen targets rising about small storage sheds and warehouses. “We don’t have enough explosives for this!”

“Maybe we don’t need explosives,” Sean said, grinning. “These are all kept under pressure, it’s like a gas tank. Fiddle with the pressure -- ”

“You can turn the tanks into giant bombs,” Havoc said, grinning. “Can you do it?”

“Incoming!” Falman shouted, firing into the warehouses. Havoc dropped to the ground, firing ahead into a squad of SS goons. He’d stopped thinking that these ones were even soldiers, not after what Bolin had said they were doing to innocent civilians. They weren’t total idiots, they fired from cover and tried to coordinate their efforts in stopping the team. Yet, as Havoc put a burst through one of the thugs that was trying to shout orders, he felt nothing about it. This wasn’t the accidental deaths of civilians, something that did happen in war no matter how hard a nation could try to avoid it. This wasn’t the murder of witnesses in black ops, something Havoc and other men like him had to make their own peace with. This was an operation solely made and devoted to the idea that because they saw another group as less than human, less than even animals, that they deserved to be eliminated.

Havoc had to ignore how much it reminded him of what Amestris did in Ishval. Like Wilcox said, philosophy had to wait until the shooting was over.

Rounds pinged and ricocheted down from above, Havoc ducking behind cover. Peeking out, he saw a trio of watchtowers overlooking the facility. “Fuery, Mako, take those towers out!”

Mako and Fuery set to it, taking stock of their targets. Two of the towers sat at the far end of the facility, watching over what looked like a gate. The third was centered in the compound, watching over the entire area.

“Mako, your weapon has a better range,” Fuery shouted. “Keep the sniper down, I’ll handle the two watchtowers.”

“On it,” Mako shouted back. Raising the rifle to his shoulder, he aimed down the sight and put the top of the needle-like watchtower. He saw a humanoid figure atop it, silhouetted through the simple sights of the weapon he was using. It wasn’t like the red-dot electronic sight of the weapons from the EU. It was a notch in the rear of the rifle, coupled with a metal post at the front. He squeezed the trigger, watching as sparks erupted around the railing at the top of the tower. He watched the sniper duck a half-second later, and Mako kept firing as Fuery went at the towers.

Fuery ran along the side of one of the storage sheds, hearing shouting from above in the watchtowers. Peeking out of cover, he saw two SS thugs in the watchtower firing at where Havoc, Sean, and Falman were. Moving slow, doing his best not to draw their attention, he leveled his SMG at the farthest tower. Squeezing the trigger, he watched as the black-uniformed goon fell back into the tower. Before the closer tower could respond, Fuery was already putting rounds on target.

Reloading with a fresh magazine, Fuery ran up to the team and shouted, “Okay, we’re clear from the towers!”

Havoc nodded, watching as another thug tried to throw a grenade at them. Cutting the man down, Havoc watched as the man cried out, clutching at a wounded arm. Seconds later, the grenade detonated.

“Fuery, go back and see if Breda and Bolin need help,” Havoc said, making sure his fedora was still secure on his head. “I hope Al’s having an easier time with the convoy.”

* * *

[Al scanned](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLBFeoikELo) the thoroughfare along the canal, anxious as he stood next to Luc and Veronique. It was almost ten, the supply convoy would be moving through soon. He saw the Resistance fighters for the attack gathered in small groups about the boulevard. Others waited inside the buildings, weapons ready for the attack.

“Be calm my friend,” Luc said, smoking as he watched the canal. “The convoy will be here, mark my words.”

“It isn’t your word we are worried about,” Veronique said. “How do we know that Santos won’t betray our deal?”

“He has no choice but to play along,” Luc said, watching as a series of trucks rolled into view. They were led by a Nazi patrol car with a machine gun mounted on the back, five trucks rolling behind it followed by a truck with a machine gun mounted to the rear. As Al watched, the second truck started to jerk about, and the convoy pulled to the side of the boulevard.

“That must be the driver Santos bribed,” Luc said, glancing about the street. Al saw him get nods from several of the men, and a trio started walking toward the trucks. Al watched as they came close, a Nazi soldier noticing them and moving to intercept. That was when two of them shot the soldier, and the third threw a stick grenade and threw it under the lead car.

The blast blew out the patrol car, the Nazi manning the machine gun blown through the air as the car went up. The ambush was on, Resistance fighters charging forward to take out the Nazi manning the rear machine gun on the last truck. He managed to fire off a burst though, cutting down one of the Resistance before he was shot dead.

“Now, into the trucks,” Luc shouted, charging across the boulevard. Al kept pace, watching as the Nazis started to organize a response. He gripped the pistol in his hand, leveling it to his eyes. He remembered what he’d learned from 1st Platoon, but he realized he couldn’t pull the trigger. Even as the Nazis fired on the Resistance, on _him_ , he couldn’t fire back.

Diving behind a car left abandoned by a fleeing civilian, Al stopped and collected his thoughts. “ _C’mon, you need to be smart about this! The platoon taught you to aim, didn’t they? Then aim in a way that won’t do any lasting damage._ ” Nodding, he poked his head up and found a target. A soldier with an assault rifle, firing from behind one of the trucks. Al took his time, leveling the pistol and building his castle. He lined up his shot, aiming for the Nazi’s right shoulder as he squeezed the trigger.

The soldier screamed out, writing and crying out on the pavement as he clutched as his shoulder. Al blinked, watching as the gray-uniformed Nazi tried to stem the blood pouring out from his shoulder. “ _Wait, what?_ ” Al thought, staring at the man even in the middle of the firefight. “ _No, I was trying to wound him!_ ”

Veronique ducked behind the car, rounds pinging against the steel body. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, right,” Al said, leaning around the car again. Ignoring the man he shot, he found a new target in the form of a Nazi soldier reloading his MP 40. Raising his pistol, Al tried to fire at his arm. He smiled a little, watching as the Nazi cried out and clutched at his left arm. The joy vanished as he saw the Nazi raise his weapon and fire.

Luc screamed out, stumbling as he tried to charge the trucks. He grabbed at his thigh, blood staining his trousers as Veronique sprinted to him.

“ _Dammit, no!_ ” Ducking behind the car, Al slammed his fist against the cobblestones. “ _Why, why can’t I make this work!_ ”

“Alphonse!” Looking up, Al saw Luc being hauled by Veronique to the nearest truck. “Quickly, we need to move!”

Fighting back a wave of emotions, Al sprinted to the trucks as the fighters started to scatter back into the city. As Veronique helped Luc into the cab on the lead truck, Al saw what happened to the two Nazis he shot. The one that wounded Luc lay dead on the boulevard, riddled with gunfire. The other was silent on the cobblestones, staring up at the sky. In spite of the chaos around him, he went up to the man and put his fingers to the soldier’s neck.

Nothing.

Ignoring the wave of nausea and rage washing over his body, he clambered into the back of one of the trucks and tried to ignore the dozens of other Nazis bodies scattered about the canal.

The trucks rolled into La Villette a half hour later, the sounds of sirens echoing through the city behind them. Luc hobbled off the truck, Veronique rushing to his side to help him to the floor. “Ensure the supplies are sent to Santos as soon as possible,” Luc grunted, standing in the middle of the floor even as Veronique tried to lead him to the basement. “Tell him we’ll expect the papers by tomorrow, and for our weapons to be delivered soon after.” He grunted, gripping his leg as Veronique led him to the basement.

Al tried to ignore his feelings, helping unload the supplies with the men around him. Crates marked with black eagles atop swastikas, laden with ill-gotten gains for Santos’ black market contacts. “Check the boxes” he shouted, fighting back against a wave of rage. “Santos only gets the cigarettes and alcohol.” As the fighters answered affirmative, Al rose and shuffled toward the basement door. He didn’t go inside though, he couldn’t make it halfway down the stairs before he slumped against the wall. Biting his lip, he fought back against crying out. He couldn’t stop the tears though, which stung all the harder as he heard the men inside the slaughterhouse cheering another successful action against the Nazis.

* * *

Putting a bullet through the head of the last SS thug in the refinery, Havoc turned to see Breda attaching a block of explosives to the central storage tank of the facility. Walking outside, he saw Bolin and Mako putting two more on a pair of the larger storage tanks.

Fuery came running up, saying, “Sean’s almost done with the valves on the other tanks Havoc.”

“Good, once we’re finished we’re -- ” Sirens, coming from the other direction. “Shit, they responded faster than I thought. Fuery, get the others, we’re getting out of here. Breda, Mako, Bolin! C’mon, we’re leaving!”

Mako and Breda started running, but Havoc noticed Bolin was glaring at the sound of the sirens. He gripped his shotgun, his hand moving to grab fresh shells.

“Bolin!” Havoc glared at the earthbender, ready to move. “We’re leaving! No more killing Nazis for now!” Bolin flinched, Havoc seeing the wild look in his eyes. Havoc stepped forward, ready to knock Bolin out and haul him away. Then Bolin shut his eyes and started running toward Havoc.

“ _Good call kid,_ ” Havoc thought, backing up as he saw Bolin run for the rest of the team. Checking over the rest of the facility, Havoc started running to the back of the facility.

Running to the back wall of the refinery, he watched as Falman threw two black uniform blouses over the barbed wire. The team started clambering over the wall, Havoc perching atop the blouses as he pulled out his detonator. “Breda, detonator!” Breda took out his detonator and tossed it to Havoc, the officer taking one last look over the facility. Nodding, he jumped behind the wall and triggered the explosives.

The blast ripped through the facility, the team thrown to the ground even as the shockwave hit the wall. A mass plume of smoke erupted from the center of the facility, and a wave of heat ripped overhead. Secondary explosions started to rip through the compound, the sabotaged fuel tanks rupturing and shuddering as the high-pressure tanks burst open.

Breda was the first to speak, pulling his face up from the ground to say, “That wasn’t a chemical weapons explosion.”

“We’d better get moving,” Havoc groaned, pushing himself up and checking on Bolin. “Sean, get us back around into the city. We need to move, now.” As Sean led the way, Havoc made sure he was behind Bolin the whole way.

* * *

“Lots of sirens,” Skylar said, peeking out the window as she let her hair down. “I’d say Sean and your friends are back at work.”

“Fine, they can burn down these restaurants too,” Asami groaned. She lay facedown in her bed, burying her face in the pillows. She’d spent the last day and a half in the hotel room, unwilling to risk the threat of running into another lunch with Eckhardt.

A knock at the door. The four women tensed, Skylar doing her bun back up and putting her glasses back on. Adopting a look of disinterest, she opened the door and glared. “Yes?”

“Pardon me mademoiselle,” a young male voice said. “Gen. Eckhardt asked us to supply Ms. Sato’s servants with these uniforms.”

“I see,” Skylar said in her German accent, taking the folded clothes. “Tell Gen. Eckhardt that Ms. Sato is thankful for his assistance. You may leave now.” Shutting the door, Skylar dropped her accent and turned around. “Bad news ladies, looks like you’ll be real maids from now on.”

“What do you mean?” Korra asked, seconds before Skylar unfolded the outfits. “Oh, oh there is no way I’m ever wearing that!”


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 2**

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m wearing this,” Korra groaned, staring down at herself in the outfit. Asami was looking too, and trying hard to suppress her laughter. She was dressed in a maid’s uniform, right down to the white stockings and lade headpiece. “I’m not seriously gonna wear this thing, am I?”

“You’ll have to whenever you’re in this room,” Skylar said. “These were gifts from Gen. Eckhardt to Asami, if you aren’t wearing them he’ll be offended.”

“Oh, come on,” Korra said, pulling at the ankle-length skirt. “This thing looks ridiculous on me!” She saw Asami’s face starting to break, and she pointed. “Do not say a word!”

“I agree with Korra,” May said, looking down at a maid outfit half a size too big. “If Ling every found out about this, I’d never live it down. You’re sure this is necessary?”

“If it helps,” Skylar said. “Your skirts are perfect for concealing weapons now. Meaning you’re even better bodyguards for our lovely little heiress.”

“Finally,” May sighed. “Do you know where I can get any knives?”

“Oh, so you like getting close and personal,” Skylar said, grinning. “I’ll see about it, what about you Korra?”

“I’m fine with these,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “What about this dinner at the general’s place?”

“We’ve got another week before that happens,” Skylar said, smiling wistfully as she took a seat in the suite. “Personally, I can’t wait to attend. Eckhardt loves to collect cars, that chateau of his is laden with beautiful racing machines.”

“It’s always the ones that don’t deserve the best that have them,” Asami sighed. “Can we get word to Havoc and Luc about this?”

“I’ll go,” Skylar said, sighing as she started to do up her hair. “I’ll call a cab and get to the Belle. With a week’s planning we should be prepared for anything that might happen. Hold down the fort here until I get back, if you’re absolutely hungry order through room service.”

“Don’t worry,” Asami said, looking queasy. “I don’t plan on going anywhere near the restaurant.”

“Good, then I’ll take May with me,” Skylar said. “After all, you aren’t going to be anywhere near Eckhardt or his subordinates today until we return.” It was less than five minutes before May was changed and out the door with Skylar.

“Lucky,” Korra grumbled, glaring at the door. “So, still no better dealing with them?”

“These people are literally the worst, Korra,” Asami said, shuffling over to the couch. “They’re all so wrapped up in themselves it’s disgusting. And the way they keep looking at me? Ugh, it gives me the creeps.”

“Yeah, this is making me so glad we went along with this plan,” Korra grumbled, her eye twitching. She sighed and fell next to Asami on the couch. “What do you think, Spirit World trip after this?”

“At least a week,” Asami said. “I’ll need that much tea from Iroh to get over some of this stuff.”

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, staring up at the white-and-gold ceiling. There was no need to say anything right now, there was nothing either woman needed to say to each other. Asami held out her hand, Korra smiling as she took it in hers.

“You uh, you do look nice in that uniform,” Asami whispered.

“Oh,” Korra said, blushing a little. “Well, at least you like it.”

There was a knock at the door, too powerful to be any of the staff. Korra’s eyes bugged out as she hissed, “Seriously? Seriously!?”

“Just act like a maid and stay calm,” Asami said, jumping up and straightening her outfit. Giving her hair a flourish for good measure, she put her mask on and checked the peephole. Dierker was standing outside it, standing proud in front of the door. Off to the side, Asami could barely make out his assistant, Franziska. Sighing, she took one last breath before cracking the door.

“ _Guten morgen, fräulein_ ” Dierker said, smiling down on Asami. “Forgive me, but I was hoping to speak with you today about your time in Paris.”

“I see,” Asami said, keeping her tone dismissive. “Perhaps this could wait until some other time? I’m waiting for an important call.”

“It won’t take long, I assure you,” Dierker said, pushing the door open and striding in. “Such a lovely suite, your family must have spent considerable sums of money to put you here.”

“Considerable for some I suppose,” Asami said, feigning disinterest. “The Mirai Concern doesn’t see a need to flaunt wealth, only to use it.”

“Yes, I must admit an unfamiliarity with your father’s company if you’ll forgive me.” Dierker stalked about the suite, peering at everything as Korra stood quiet by the fireplace. “I know of Mitsubishi and Mitsui, certainly. The Mirai Concern, however, is one I’ve been unable to find information on.”

“Perhaps because my father feels no need to promote himself or his business,” Asami said, keeping her expression flat. “We pursue practical concerns, manufacturing what is needed for those who require it. If a larger corporation requires what we build, we’ll build it. They’re the ones with the money after all.”

“I see,” Dierker said, moving around the edges of the room. “So, your father fears rising to challenge them?”

“My father is thoughtful about where to move next,” Asami said. “It’s part of the reason he allowed me to travel.”

“Yes, about your travel arrangements,” Franziska said, stepping forward. “How did you enter the continent?”

“Through Spain,” Asami said, glaring at the leather-clad woman. “Tell me, do you insult all your guests like this?”

Dierker glared at Franziska and spat, “No, we do not! Watch your tongue Franziska, Ms. Sato is still a visitor from an ally.” Franziska backed down, but didn’t drop her glare. “Tell me then, Ms. Sato. Your father, he built cars, _ja_? I suppose he simply built basic consumer vehicles?”

Asami grinned a little. “Actually, before the war we started to build our own race cars. Of course, things were rather difficult when the war started. Still, we do have a few models in storage for when the fighting ends.”

The mention of “race cars” caught Dierker’s attention. He spun around and hurried up to Asami. “Really? I don’t suppose you’d like to attend any races?”

Asami’s eyebrow went up. “I’d certainly like to drive in one. I was the one who helped test our family’s latest models.”

“A woman racer?” Franziska laughed. “I thought Japanese women were supposed to be quiet, obedient to the men in their lives.”

“As you can tell, I’m not your typical Japanese woman,” Asami said, turning to glare at Franziska again. “For example, I’m not going to presume all Nazi women are judgmental fools who offend their guests.”

“In fact, I think you should wait outside Franziska,” Dierker growled, glaring at his underling. Franziska blinked, then snapped to attention and spun around. Marching out of the suite, she shot one last glare at Asami before slamming the door.

“Please forgive her rudeness,” Dierker said, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine what’s gotten into her recently.”

“No, I do understand,” Asami said, putting some faux sympathy in her voice. “Trying to track down this resistance sounds like stressful work. You and your men should be recognized for your efforts.”

“That is kind of you to say,” Dierker said, snapping to attention and bowing to Asami. Korra took the chance to make a face at Dierker’s back before going back to being a maid. “Fear not however, the _Schutzstaffel_ will ensure that these enemies of the Reich will have no safe haven in three weeks time.”

“Three weeks time.” Something about the words sent chills up Asami’s spine. Dierker knew something she didn’t, and she needed to find out what. She gave Korra a quick glance, and saw she understood too.

“I certainly hope to see that answer then,” Asami said. “For now, though, I must see to that call.”

“Of course, _fräulein_ ,” DIerker said, smiling and bowing again. “Have you been invited to Gen. Eckhardt’s chateau? He has a fine collection of race cars, prizes from previous victories of myself and my team.”

“Prizes?” Asami only let the mask slip for a split second, before she replaced confusion with disinterest. “So, there’s no racing to be found anywhere in the city?”

“As the French say, _au contraire_ ,” Dierker said, butchering another language. “My men have found there is an underground racing network in the city. If you are interested, perhaps you’d be willing to attend?”

“More than that,” Asami purred. “Perhaps you could introduce me as another racer? I didn’t come to Paris solely to learn about manufacturing. Gen. Eckhardt is useful for learning about these issues, but I need to feel the roar of an engine if I’m going to have any fun here.”

“Then we must not deny you your pleasure,” Dierker said, a leering gaze spreading over his features. “I’ll send you word when the first race will be. I’ll even spot you one of my cars.”

“I’d be most grateful,” Asami said, batting her eyes for good measure. “I am sorry, but this call is a personal one between myself and my father though. All in Japanese, you’d only wind up getting bored.”

“Then I will take my leave for now,” Dierker said, striding toward the door with his chest puffed out. “ _Auf wiedersehen_ , Ms. Sato.”

When the door finally shut, Asami waited a few seconds before she hurried over to lock it. “Thank the Spirits, I never thought he’d leave!”

“You know, if it were just his personality he’d be no worse than Tahno when we first met.” Korra’s fists were clenched as she went over to Asami. “The whole Nazi thing makes him ten times worse.”

“If that,” Asami sighed. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” Korra said. “Are you sure you want to go on races with that guy?”

“I want to get Eckhardt and Dierker competing for my attention,” Asami said. “If we convince Eckhardt that Dierker has an upper hand, he might take other steps.”

“Like letting you into his factory,” Korra said, nodding. “Still, I don’t want you going alone. I know you can handle yourself, but Dierker’s slimier than Foggy Swamp.”

“Fair enough,” Asami said, hugging Korra tight. “I’m glad you’re here for me regardless.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Korra said, squeezing back. “I love you Asami.”

“I love you too, Korra.”

* * *

“And that’s about the size of it,” Skylar said, wrapping up her information for Havoc and the rest of the team on the second floor of the Belle. “Any questions?”

“A few,” Havoc said, glaring at Skylar. “Let’s start with what we’re supposed to do if something goes wrong? How do you plan on getting out of there?”

“Wilcox is already aware of what we’re going to do, by extension so is Bishop. If anything does happen, we steal two of the cars Eckhardt keeps at his chateau.” Skylar grinned as she took a seat. “Rather poetic, seeing as he’s stolen half of them.”

“I’m sorry, I think I missed something,” Bolin said, giving a sheepish grin. “How did he steal a bunch of cars?”

“Before the war Eckhardt’s racing team essentially ran the European circuit,” Skylar said. “He’d wager his cars against the ones of his opponents. Thanks to Dierker’s methods of racing, more often than not he’d win and take the wagered cars.”

“Regardless, I’m still worried,” Havoc said. “There’s something vital you need them to play at, something that requires this kind of danger. It’s more than playing havoc in the Nazi high command, so what is it?” Skylar was silent, and Havoc turned to the teams. “Give us some time guys.”

As one, the teams rose. Sean stayed a moment, but a look from Skylar sent him the message. “Fine, you two government types talk about your secret codes and dastardly deeds then.”

Skylar waited until everyone was down on the main floor of the Belle before speaking. “You’ll have to forgive Sean. I’m sure you’ve put a few things together about him, which is part of the reason why he isn’t a fan of secrets.”

“As long as he’s still able to fight?” Havoc shrugged, tapping off some ash. “He can hate who he wants. So, what’s the real goal?”

“Eckhardt is one of the targets assigned to Bishop’s unit,” Skylar said. “The Doppelsieg factory is his headquarters, eliminating him and that complex severely hampers the Nazi war effort. Getting close to him is the only way we can do that.”

“And you can’t bomb it because it’s too heavily defended?” Skylar nodded, and Havoc groaned as he leaned back in his chair. “I want you to tell Asami, Korra, and May. That’s non-negotiable, they deserve to know the details about this.”

“Very well, but there’s more,” Skylar said. “After lunch the other day, Asami mentioned there’s a secret project being placed in the factory by the SS. A project we’ve been tracking for some time. If the Nazis succeed at it, this could prolong the war by years.” There was genuine concern in Skylar’s voice as she spoke, Havoc couldn’t blame her either. A longer war meant more lives lost, and the threat that her nation’s fortunes could turn.

“Alright, I’m fine with this dinner party idea,” Havoc sighed, crushing his cigarette. “But if anything happens to my people? I’m holding you and your team responsible.”

“Fair enough,” Skylar said, going back to her usual self before Havoc’s eyes. “Besides, I think we’ve left those two enough time to themselves.”

Havoc looked up. “You know?”

“Well they do share the same bedroom,” Skylar said. “I don’t judge them though. One learns to make certain allowances after years of boarding schools. Especially on how to make the most of the experience.” Skylar grinned at the memories now coming to the fore in her mind.

Havoc shook his head, taking out a fresh cigarette. “Just needed to make sure. More than a few people out there who’d give them grief for it, didn’t need you to be one of them. Like I said, those three deserve to know if they’re going into a snake pit like this.”

“I’ll make sure they understand,” Skylar said, rising from the table. “What about you all?”

“Luc’s gonna start making contact with the rest of the resistance in the city,” Havoc said. “And we’ve got to tell Wilcox about what happened when we destroyed that refinery. I don’t think it was chemical weapons they were making in there.”

“Oh, the Nazis being duplicitous?” Skylar faked a pout. “How awful.”

As Havoc and Skylar spoke, Sean made his way to the back room of the Belle. Sliding an old poster of a young Mdme. Rousseau to the side and walking through the back room, he made his way to the garage in the back. He found Vittore still at work, turning a wrench in the hood of an old junker. “Oi, Vittore?”

Vittore turned, smiling as he saw who was speaking. “Ah, my boy. Come to help?”

“Vittore,” Sean whispered, moving close to his racing chief. “I found her.”

* * *

Wilcox stared at Havoc and Breda for a moment after the trip the two had taken. “What do you mean it wasn’t a chemical refinery?”

“The entire setup,” Breda said, Havoc standing back and letting his friend work. “None of the guards were wearing any gas masks, even though it should’ve been standard procedure in case of even a slight leak from the tanks. The tanks themselves were spaced at large intervals, and the Nazis had no trouble firing wild among them. Then there was the blast wave after the explosives went off. It was a fireball with intense heat, but the majority of materials used in the manufacture of chemical weapons? They’re typically corrosives and irritants, not capable of the kind of explosive force we saw. Even under intense pressure, those tanks should’ve ruptured, not exploded.”

“Bloody Jerry bastards,” Wilcox whispered. “Then it wasn’t a chemical plant, it was a fuel facility.”

“Cut the crap,” Havoc said, glaring at Wilcox. “We don’t mind help you people out with taking down Nazi facilities, but we do appreciate some honesty.”

“I don’t appreciate the tone sir,” Wilcox spat. “It won’t do you any good to think we have all the answers right now. The Jerry bastards are devious, they know what’s valuable as targets from our bombers. A chemical weapon refinery or a fuel facility, which one do you think our bombers would target? We’re the ones tasked with destroying the targets that won’t get a flight of bombers.”

“You’re saying your own government, the people we’re supposed to trust, can’t even get the right intelligence?” Breda’s eyes narrowed. “Or are there other concerns?”

Wilcox sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Even with the elimination of the hardpoint at the cathedral and the radar facility in the abbey, the RAF still consider Paris a heavily defended position. The bloody anti-air is too thick, and we’ve lost too many pilots on specific bombing missions.”

“So, you need the anti-air taken out,” Havoc said, taking a drag. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Because the bloody orders we have don’t allow for it,” Wilcox grumbled, turning in his chair. “Our office says our focus is on disrupting the Nazi’s own special operations and projects. Running about Paris blowing flak guns to hell doesn’t equal our mission.”

“Not yours,” Havoc said, grinning as he took a drag. “Great thing about our being here at least. Not that you’d suggest we should be the ones making things easier, right?”

Wilcox grinned, staring at the stained glass in the back room. “I certainly can’t stop you, can I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, we're still pushing through on A is A!
> 
> As always, I appreciate hearing how the stories are shaking out from all of you. Don't be afraid to comment on what you like, what you think needs work, and what you notice that I might not have even realized when I was writing this!
> 
> Stay tuned, more on the way!


	26. Chapter 25 - Bois de Boulogne

**Chapter 25 – Bois de Boulogne**

* * *

Havoc stood in the center of the team in the basement of La Villette, next to a table with a map of the city on it. “Alright, thanks to Santos we have new Nazi anti-air positions in the city. While Luc and Al move into the center of the city and make contact, we’re going to figure out how to give British some breathing room for their bombers.”

“We won’t have any backup this time,” Breda said. “At best, we’ll be able to make a good impression on the other Resistance cells as we do this. The only way we can make this work is striking from the north of the city, then melting back into it. No holding out, no heroic stands, and no killing as many Nazis as we can.” He didn’t hide the glare he gave to Bolin.

“What about you Luc,” Havoc said, turning to the leader of the Resistance. “How’re you gonna win these people over?”

“I’ll know that once I meet them,” Luc said, grinning a little. “The actions of the Nazis deeper in the city may be different from what we know here. I have heard that the leader of the faction we are to make contact with is also rather noble in bearing. Their needs and ideas on the Resistance may differ from our own.”

“Nobles,” Havoc groaned, rolling his eyes. “We’ll need a guide too Luc, someone that’ll help us around the city. Can you spare Veronique?” Luc blinked, looking conflicted about the idea. Veronique, standing behind him, glared at Havoc.

“It would be the best way to help you find your way around the city,” Luc said, turning to Veronique. “What do you say my dear?”

“I suppose it would be for the best,” Veronique said, putting on a plastic smile. “After all, we can’t have our American friends scrambling for help when they have no idea what they’re doing.”

“And we’re so tickled you want to help,” Havoc said, grinning back. “One thing, where’s Sean?”

“I couldn’t say,” Luc said. “I haven’t seen him in the past few days. I had thought you knew his location.” Havoc and Breda glanced at each other, but said nothing.

“Alright, we’ve got a plan,” Havoc said. “Al…” Havoc stumbled, looking into a pair of empty eyes. Al was certainly present in the planning session, but his mind and heart wasn’t in it. Sighing, he took out a fresh cigarette. “Luc, Veronique, we need to talk among ourselves?” Luc nodded, gesturing Veronique to walk with him into the back of the basement.

Havoc waited until he was clear until he turned to Al. “What happened during the convoy attack, Al?”

“I killed another man,” Al whispered. “I wasn’t even trying to kill him though, I only wanted to wound him.”

Havoc sighed, lighting up as he let the silence hang a moment. “Shooting to wound is an oxymoron Al.”

Al tried to argue. “Capt. Hawkeye did it during the coup.”

“Hawkeye is an experienced sniper who has had years of experience handling weapons,” Havoc said. “Even then, she left a lot of soldiers from Central wounded and crippled long after the fighting. They’re alive alright, but how many do you think are learning to walk or use their hands again?”

Al let out a strangled groan, burying his head in his hands. Havoc bit back his words, but at this point Al wasn’t helping with being so held up. Worse, May wasn’t around. Having a fellow alchemist explain things would’ve helped, but there was only his part of the mission now. Unless…

“Bolin,” Havoc said. “You and Al talk a while. Everyone else, take five.”

Bolin blinked, but before he could say anything else the group had dispersed through the basement. Shaking his head, he tried to smile at Al. “Uh, hey! So, uh, kinda having a rough time then. I know, I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” Al mumbled. “You can kill as many Nazis as you want, you don’t care that it’s still killing them.”

“Okay, uh, maybe not a good way to put that,” Bolin said, glaring at Al. “What I mean is, well I heard what Asami said to you. You’re questioning the fact that this has to happen, you’re not wrong.”

“Then why can’t we come up with another way to fight the Nazis?” Al could barely pull his head up. “It all feels like it comes down to it, all we do is shoot them or blow them up.”

“Now that is not true,” Bolin said, glaring at Al a moment. Then he said, “Sometimes we punch them.”

“We’re killing them Bolin,” Al said. “Why, why does it have to be like this?”

“Al, do you think there is a choice?” Bolin glared at Al, putting his hands on the table. “The Nazis have control over Paris, we don’t have our bending or your alchemy. How did you think we were gonna fight them? I mean, what are we supposed to do?”

“Why can’t we hide out,” Al said. “You all keep saying how the Nazis are going to lose anyway.”

“You’re saying you’d be able to sit around watching the Nazis rule Paris,” Bolin said, his tone growing angry. “I thought you were the kind of person who wants to help anyone that needs it.”

“Don’t act like you’re better than me about this Bolin,” Al said, his eyes suddenly alight with anger. “You aren’t fighting because you care about the people here. This is an excuse to try and tell yourself you aren’t a Nazi. After everything you did with Kuvira, you think that killing a few more men wearing swastikas will do it? How many need to die Bolin?”

Bolin snarled at Al, glaring at the young alchemist. “That’s not the only reason I’m willing to fight them, don’t try to make me the bad guy Al.”

“Then why aren’t you willing to leave well-enough alone,” Al said. “You’re so focused on killing them you’re willing to die in the process.”

“And you’re willing to die if it means not fighting back,” Bolin said, slamming a fist on the table. “What, you’re afraid of admitting that you might be wrong?”

“I’m worried I’ll wind up thinking it’s too easy,” Al said, not backing down. “When you think every problem is solved by killing, it’s all you’ll ever do.”

“Then you tell me how we’re supposed to handle the Nazis,” Bolin argued. “How do we take them on if they’re willing to kill millions of people because of who they are?”

“You keep saying that, but we haven’t seen any of it,” Al barked. “Even if A is A, why haven’t we seen the Nazis doing anything like it? Where are they killing all these people? You’re projecting, and I’m sorry you were part of Kuvira’s army but this isn’t like that.”

“Then what about the records from SG-1’s universe,” Bolin fired back. “The Nazis literally think that anyone that isn’t like them is sub-human. Right now, even if we can’t see it, they’re killing hundreds of people a day because they’re Jewish, or Gypsies, or Slavs! They’re killing people who are gay, or who oppose them politically, and they think they’re justified in doing it. And it’s not like what happened with Amestris in Ishval, it’s worse. This isn’t slaughtering people in war, this is organizing an entire section of their government to commit mass murder.”

“Then what happens when Gen. Hammond calls us back?” Al asked. “You’ll be willing to disobey him? You said it yourself, even if we keep fighting the war will still carry on for another two years.”

“That hasn’t happened yet has it,” Bolin said, pushing himself away from the table. “You know what, fine, be a coward. We’ve got more important things to worry about.” Pushing himself away from the table, Bolin stormed away. Al was left staring down at the marked map, trying to force the cap back on the anger roiling inside him.

* * *

It wasn’t hard getting the papers from Santos, not after he was laughing in the middle of his crates of cigarettes and booze. Al was silent as the car drove through the streets however, not noticing as the city flew by.

“Something troubles you my friend,” Luc said, guiding the car to the nearest checkpoint. “I take it your discussion with Bolin did not go well.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Al said. “He’s so focused on killing, it’s all he wants to do to the Nazis.”

“You do not approve of his methods then?”

“I don’t approve of any of this,” Al said, sliding against the seat. “We’re still stuck killing Nazis night after night, what difference are we making? If all we’re doing is killing, where do we stop?”

“When this war is ended Alphonse,” Luc said, slowing at the checkpoint into the second zone. “Be ready, they will ask for our papers.

Al straightened up, reaching into his pocket for the forged documents. He watched as one of the guards called for the car to stop, calling out for “paperen”. He and Luc held up their documents as the soldier came to the window, then nodded. The gates parted, and Luc rolled through without issue.

“Say what you will about Santos,” Luc chuckled. “His products are quality work.”

“Good for him,” Al grumbled, going back to his sulking.

“I see you have not recovered from the discussion before,” Luc said. “Is it that you fear death?”

“No, I understand what death is,” Al said. “Scientifically it’s the cessation of life, the ceasing of the biological processes that maintain the body’s actions. Spiritually, death is considered the next stage of existence. No matter what you believe, there’s always an ‘after’. Unless you’re my brother, then life just ends. But that’s not even the end really. Your body becomes part of the soil, nutrients for plants. Another part of the cycle of death and birth. All is one, and one is all.”

“A beautiful sentiment,” Luc said, watching as a Nazi foot patrol marched past. “Then why does killing in war trouble you so?”

“Because it isn’t what’s supposed to happen,” Al said.

“Wars are not supposed to happen,” Luc said, pulling the car into a massive plaza. Al saw that there was a massive arch in the center, covered in massive Nazi banners. “Were it my choice, I would not kill. Yet what else can men do? We do not have the power of God, Alphonse. We can only do so much.”

Al shut his eyes, recalling the similar sensations to when he’d been forced to face the limits of a human being in the haunting eyes of Nina. He’d remembered the blinding-hot fury of being faced with Shou Tucker, being tempted to kill him but forcing the rage away. “ _If I didn’t kill him,_ ” Al thought. “ _How can I justify killing anyone else?_ ”

Moving on from the massive arch, Al watched as the buildings turned into a boulevard lined with topiary. The Nazi presence faded instantly, replaced with the greenery of a city park. Rounding another plaza, the pair were soon surrounded by trees.

That was when four armed men came into view.

Al turned to the back, and saw three more approaching. “Luc?”

“Stand calm, Alphonse,” Luc said, betraying nothing on his face. “To act in fear will lead to our deaths.”

One of the armed men came up and opened the door, keeping a pistol on Luc. “Who are you?”

“Luc Gaudin,” he said, looking up at the man almost like he was bored. “I’m here to meet with the leader of this cell.”

“Out of the car, both of you,” the man said, motioning with the barrel of his pistol. Al moved with practiced calm, this wasn’t his first time being held at gunpoint after all. Another motion, and Al and Luc were following the men into the park.

The sounds of the city faded, there was no more Nazi propaganda or rumbling military trucks. The trees shielded them all, like the Nazis could do nothing even in a preserved slice of the natural world. Even surrounded by armed fighters, Al felt more at each than in the city.

The pair were led into a small clearing, and a small barn inside it. Al could hear a small stream behind it, and he saw a small farmhouse with a still-turning water wheel turned by a stream.

The leader of the fighters said something Al couldn’t understand, then motioned for Al and Luc to go into the basement ahead of him. Taking a nervous gulp, Al followed Luc into a cold wine cellar. Massive barrels and barren shelves sat on the cold stone floor, a small wood door at the other end of the room.

“ _Allez_ ,” the man said. Luc nodded, going up to the door and opening it. Al was still subconsciously bracing himself, expecting that he’d be lucky to hear the gunshot that might end his life.

The door led to a small cavern, the water from the stream falling in front of an opening looking out on the city. Wood planks were placed above the small pool of water from the falls, several fighters looking over at the door and at the pair.

“Mssr. Gaudin?” one of them asked. Luc nodded, still calm. “Mdme. Bonnaire is waiting, this way.”

Still followed by the man with the pistol, Al and Luc followed the second fighter through a small tunnel carved out of the rock. The path led out on a small headquarters, a red, white, and blue tricolor hung with a red double-bar cross in the center.

“Mssr. Gaudin,” an older woman said, rising from a small table. “I am glad to see you come personally. I do not prefer to discuss business with strangers.”

“An understandable precaution in these times madame,” Luc said, his tone deferential. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”

“It was inevitable, I suppose,” she said. Al saw she was a woman at least in her fifties, her face full from a life of finer foods, her hair going gray from age. She had sharp eyes though, and from how she spoke Al didn’t doubt there was a piercing tongue to accompany a quick wit. “The actions of your cell are spreading, along with rumors of your allies.”

“One of whom is here with us,” Luc said, nodding to Al. “This is Alphonse Elric, from the American special services.”

“Ma’am,” Al said, keeping his voice even. “Thank you for letting us meet with you.”

“You speak like an American,” Mdme. Bonnaire said, studying Al. “Though I am aware that even I can be fooled. For all I know, I’m speaking with an agent of the Gestapo.”

“Respectfully ma’am, a Gestapo agent wouldn’t have done half of the thing my team and I have aided Luc in doing.” Al paused, letting her take in the words before adding, “We also wouldn’t have fooled the British agents in Le Havre so easily.”

“Perhaps,” she said, slowly taking her seat again. She motioned for Luc to sit across from her, Al noticing the table had an open novel on it. “Still, my men will need to know they can trust you.”

“Very well,” Luc said, gazing at the novel. “What must we do to prove our trustworthiness and honor to you and your men?”

“Ah, you at least speak with respect,” Mdme. Bonnaire said. “I know you are Luc Gaudin. I am the Lady Margot Bonnaire. Tell me. Mssr. Gaudin, are the stories about you and your group true?”

“It would depend on what the stories say,” Luc said, his smile polite but controlled. “For our part, we are too busy making them to know what is being told.”

“It is the Nazis who are talking, Mssr. Gaudin,” Mdme. Bonnaire said. “The Gestapo have taken great interest in your actions. Your Irish saboteur is especially feared among the _bosche_.”

“As well he should be,” Luc said, Al watching the back and forth for the sake of his own life. “The Nazis killed his _meilleur ami_ , he has decided to make them all pay for this sin.”

“That is fortunate for us, but has not stopped the Nazis from committing more such crimes," Mdme. Bonnaire said. "One of my people, for example. He was placing wiretaps on the phones in Gestapo headquarters."

“To do such work in such dangerous conditions,” Luc said, taking out a cigarette. “He must be a clever mind.”

“Yosef Bryman is one of our best agents,” Mdme. Bonnaire said, her voice filled with praise. “Until last night, when he was arrested. I fear he will not last under their questioning.”

“Then perhaps we can make other arrangements for this man,” Luc said. “If we were to free him from the Nazi’s clutches, would that begin to build our trust?”

“It would, but it will not be easy,” Mdme. Bonnaire said. “He is being held under close watch, and even with a distraction it may be dangerous.”

“What we need is a location,” Luc said. “I trust my people to do any job. We will rescue your man, and make the Nazis pay for doing so.”

“I recommend you move quickly Gaudin,” Mdme. Bonnaire said. “He is being held in the _Petit Palais_. Once you find him, bring him to me personally.”

“We will endeavor to do so,” Luc said. “Come Alphonse, we must move quickly.”

Al nodded, following Luc back up through the cave into the basement. “Luc, what are we going to do,” he whispered. “How are we supposed to engineer another prison break in less time than before?”

“Perhaps one of our Nazi friends can lend us some assistance,” Luc said. “ _Qui n’avance pas, recule._ ”

Al glared at Luc and said, “You know I have no idea what that means.”

* * *

Havoc watched from the second floor as the band practiced for the night ahead, Mssr. Rousseau setting up the tables closest to the stage. Cigarette smoke drifting in a lazy haze in front of his face, he let his mind run idle for the night.

“Bonjour cherie.” Havoc turned to see Collette walking up. She wasn’t in her “work clothes” yet, instead donning a simple robe and slippers. “Where are the others?”

“Taking a night,” Havoc said. “We’ve been running ourselves pretty ragged, gotta take a break every few nights or we’ll burn out.”

“That must be nice,” she said, turning her nose up. “The ability to take time off for yourself.”

“Yeah, it has some perks,” Havoc said, shrugging. “I guess the Rousseaus don’t let you girls take many days off?”

“It’s not that the Rousseaus don’t,” Collette said. “This work, it isn’t what one could call enriching. A girl can only take so many customers a night you know.”

“Fair,” Havoc said. “One of the nicer parts of being salaried I guess.”

“You are doing well against the Nazis though,” Collette said, leaning on the banister next to Havoc. “When they come in, they drink more each night. They’re tense, anxious. They know they’re in trouble.”

“Then we’re having an effect,” Havoc said, before he realized a thought was percolating in his head. “Collette, I think you girls can help us again.”

“Oh,” Collette said, her voice playful. “Don’t think because we’re in your debt means you can play for free.”

“Not that,” Havoc said, rolling his eyes. “What happened a few weeks ago, when you helped us get those uniforms? We might be able to do it again with actionable intelligence. If you can con some Nazi officers, convince them to follow you or some of the other girls into an alley or the back room? We can kidnap them and send them to the British for interrogation.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Collette said, staring at Havoc. “What would the benefit be?”

“Information,” Havoc said. “If we can grab their officers, we can gain intelligence on what their actions are in the city and surrounding area. No one too high in the ranks, lieutenants and maybe captains, every few weeks.”

“They are the younger ones,” Collette said, thinking about the idea. “How do you know they won’t investigate?”

“I’m sure they will,” Havoc said, grinning. “Which is when you all paint a picture of being dumb whores who are only out for themselves.”

“Why investigate us when they know what we are and the business we do,” Collette said, starting to grin. “We’ll need to convince the Rousseaus, of course.”

“They lost their son to the Nazis remember,” Havoc said, turning toward one of the tables and tapping his ash into the nearest tray. “Convincing them is reminding them of all the other families who’ve lost people to these bastards.”

“A rather cold calculation,” Collette aid, staring at Havoc. “Do you think it would be wise to use that against them?”

“It’s also for them,” Havoc said, turning back to Collette. “Besides, you think they’ll turn down the idea?”

Collette was silent for a moment. “We were willing to help with your plan to free the Legionnaires,” she said. The way she was standing against the railing, her robe fell in just the right way to show almost all of her breasts and almost all of her shapely left leg. “This feels like a further step. How can you promise to protect us for this?”

“I can’t,” Havoc said. “What’s more, you know I can’t promise that. Until the Nazis are forced to surrender there’s nothing we can do to promise that we can protect anyone. If you want to help us, there’s going to be a level of risk no matter what happens.”

Collette sighed, pulling her robe closed and pulling her leg back. “You’ve done this before?”

“I’ve been doing this long enough to know when someone’s trying to tempt me to making promises I can’t keep,” Havoc said. “That means you’re out?”

“Au contraire,” Collette said, glaring at Havoc. “If we do this, then we’ll accept that we won’t necessarily get protection. What I want is for them to know what we did. They should know that a whorehouse was involved in saving Paris from the Nazis.”

“I’ll make sure Luc and the British understand it,” Havoc said, suppressing his grin. He needed to be sure, he wasn’t going to celebrate another plan being born yet. “Can you ensnare one of them tonight?”

Collette grinned, turning to face Havoc with a flourish of the hem of her robe. “If you knew nothing about me, could you resist?”

Now Havoc chose to grin. “I could,” he said, Collette blinking. “Trust me, more bosomy women than you have tried to get in my head. Still, some punk Nazi with more blood in his crotch than his brains?” Havoc crushed his cigarette in the ash tray. “They won’t stand a chance.”

“Havoc,” Breda said, moving up the stairs. “Luc’s got a job for us, something that’ll convince part of the resistance to ally with us.”

“Get everyone together,” Havoc said. “Where’s Sean?”

“No idea,” Breda said. “Should we worry about it?”

“Later,” Havoc said, wheels already turning. “If he’s not here to help plan, he’s not here to help carry this one out.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 26 - Petit Palais  
**

* * *

Al followed Luc into the Belle, scanning the main room for anyone in the team. The main room was already filled with Nazis in the center, not quite drunk enough to pull one over on yet. The band was playing some lighter tunes to warm up the crowd, a few of the girls already moving through the main room. Two of them sat on a couch near the bar, one playing with the other’s hair as some of the men watched. Others chatted with and played their guests, getting inside their heads to spend more money at the bar or up in the rooms.

“Securing two uniforms should be no issue,” Luc whispered. “Those should be enough to help us slip inside the jail while the Nazis are dealing with the distraction.”

“Good for us,” Al sighed. “We only need to knock them unconscious, right?”

“Anything more would ruin the disguise and deny Havoc his prisoners,” Luc said, watching as Mssr. Rousseau brought fresh pints and tankards out to the Nazis in front of the stage. The fascists cheered as they grabbed their booze, already downing their drinks faster than Al thought possible. “Come, let us move upstairs.”

As the pair moved, Havoc watched from backstage. Collette was next to him, limbering up for her performance. “Remember, we need to distract them long enough that they don’t notice their people getting pulled away.”

“That won’t be hard,” Collette said, smiling as she stretched her legs. “Each night they only ever notice the girl on the stage, never what’s happening around them.”

“Yeah, but usually when we try something they’re a little more drunk than this.” Havoc took a drag and nodded to her as he walked back into the dressing room. “Knock’em dead out there.”

“Why should I,” Collette purred. “That’s why you’re all here.”

The house lights dimmed, the stage lit up as the band cut to a more seductive tune. Collette stuck a leg out from behind the curtain, running her hands up it. The Nazis cheered, demanding to see more. Havoc watched from the dressing room, then he turned to the two girls that were in on the plan. He held up his hand, the Nazis weren’t invested in Collette yet.

Breda watched from the second floor, looking down on the Nazis from above. Fuery stood by the bar, sipping at a beer as he kept watch on his side of the main room. Falman stood at the front door next to the coat check, playing at being a bored customer scanning the other girls. Mako and Bolin waited at each set of stairs, in case one of their targets tried to make a break.

As Collette presented herself on the stage, Mssr. Rousseau and some of the girls kept putting fresh drinks in the hands of the Nazis. The band played loud, the Nazis laughing even louder, shouting even harder, until Havoc was sure after three minutes that they were ready. He turned to the girls and nodded, and they strutted toward the tables.

He watched as they worked opposite sides, at the edges of the group. They picked their most likely targets, built roughly like Luc and Al. The girls whispered into their ears, Havoc could guess what the Nazis were hearing. Any and all manner of promises, thrills, exciting new experiences neither had ever seen before. It wasn’t much to lead them away, Havoc satisfied as the rest remained focused on Collette.

As they ascended the stairs, he turned his eyes to Breda at the second floor. He nodded, then there was more waiting. After five more minutes, he nodded again.

Havoc smiled, blowing out a long plume of smoke. Tomorrow morning, it was time to go to work.

* * *

Al pulled at the collar on his uniform, it was too tight for his tastes. Once the distraction started, he’d have to pull it open so he could breathe.

Luc had adopted the airs of a Nazi officer with little issue, his head high and his bearing one of silent dismissal to anyone around him. They waited across the street from the jail, between what Luc had said were the Grand Palais and Petit Palais. The Nazis surrounded the Petit entrance with guards and barbed wire, watchtowers looming over it from the street corners.

“Ten minutes,” he whispered to Al. “Are you ready?”

“How do we even know who Bryman will be,” Al whispered. “We don’t know what he looks like.”

“Lady Bonnaire told us what we’d need,” Luc said. “As she mentioned, he is someone the Nazis will take special interest in. We should have no trouble him from how he reacts.”

“Because he’d be too afraid of being caught and punished,” Al said. “Fine, that makes some sense.”

“What’s the matter,” Luc said. “This time we will not need to kill anyone.” It was Luc’s tone that told Al he was genuine, not trying to get a rise out of Al or shame him for not wanting to kill.

“It still feels like we’re taking a massive risk,” Al said. “What if we can’t get Bryman out? Fuery has training with electronics, can’t we offer his help to Lady Bonnaire?”

“It’s more than that Alphonse,” Luc said. “Lady Bonnaire must prove to her men that we are to be trusted, and saving one of their own is the best way to do this. We will bring Bryman back to his fellows, and in return we open their group to our own network of support.” Taking out one of the terrible Nazi cigarettes, he glanced to Al. “I would not expect you to be so hesitant regarding this mission. Here we are saving a man from the Nazis after all.”

Al nodded, watching as the Nazis stood their posts. He checked his watch, seeing the minutes tick down to the diversion. He noticed the guards turn to notice him and Luc, but before Al had a chance to worry there was a blast from the other end of the compound.

The Nazis called out, a black-trench coated officer sprinting down from the Grand Palais. Al and Luc kept low, watching the Nazis try to respond to Havoc’s diversion. He watched as Havoc put a long burst across into the Nazi position, dropping two of them along with the general. The sentries responded by firing at Havoc, chasing after him following the gunfire.

Moving in behind the Nazis, Luc and Al ran up to the Petit Palais entrance to see a pair of Nazis standing by an iron gate. Sneering, Luc started shouting in German. One of the soldiers looked confused, but Luc’s shouting convinced him to pull out a set of keys and open the door. Once that was done, Luc drew his pistol and shot both men.

Holding back a cry, Al followed Luc inside the doors to a small courtyard and froze. It wasn’t the makeshift barbed wire cage that shocked him. It wasn’t the fact that the people inside were half-dressed at best, covered in bruises and cuts. He didn’t freeze at the fact that they were packed so tight in the confines that some had no choice but to accept getting pressed into the wire. No, it was the sight of a set of gallows behind the barbed wire, with three fresh bodies hanging from the rope.

“Bryman,” Luc shouted, running up to the wire and the small crowd inside. “Yosef Bryman, where is he!” Someone shouted something in French, and Luc responded in a calmer voice as he found the door to the cage. Shooting the lock out, he threw the doors open and pointed to the doors they’d broken through, shouting, “ _Allez! Allez!_ ”

Al scanned the crowd, then saw him, a man content to stay in the corner and shrink. He noticed the man bore more bruises and cuts than the other prisoners. More by half, at least. “Bryman, I found Bryman!”

Luc nodded, leaving the crowd to run as he stepped inside. “Are you Bryman?”

“ _Du bist Französisch?_ ” Bryman stood up, Al stepping back at hearing German. “I’m Bryman, I am!”

“Lady Bonnaire sent us,” Luc said, grabbing Bryman’s arm. “Come, we have to get you out!”

“Wait, he’s a Nazi,” Al said, stepping back from Bryman. “Luc, he’s one of them!”

“Lady Bonnaire claims him,” Luc shouted. “That’s enough for now! Hurry, before they return!”

Mind racing, Al sprinted behind Luc and Bryman to the doors. Luc started throwing off his disguise, pistol out as Bryman followed him. “We need a car! Alphonse, watch Bryman while I get us transportation!”

“Wait, what?” Al tried to keep pace with Luc as the Frenchman ran for the street. Bryman stood in the middle of the plaza between the two buildings as confused as Al, like he was still trying to realize he wasn’t behind the wire anymore. “I don’t understand,” Al said, eyes wide. “Why are you working with us? You’re a Nazi!”

“I am not a Nazi,” Bryman shouted back. “Because of the Nazis, the blood in my veins is a death sentence!”  
  
“That doesn’t explain why you’re with the Resistance,” Al shouted back. “Why would the French work with you?”

“I studied radios,” Bryman said. “When I fled the Nazis in Germany, we came here.”

“And that’s how you joined the French Resistance?!”

Bryman shrugged and said, “It seemed sensible at the time.”

A car horn honked from the street, Al grabbing Bryman’s arm and running up to see Luc waiting for them in a massive road boat of a car. Jumping in the back with Bryman, Al held on as Luc gunned the massive engine back down the Champs-Elysees. Slowing down as the sirens of the patrol vehicles came close, Al and Bryamn ducked behind the doors until Al saw trees above the car.

Luc pulled to a stop as Al heard shouting in French. Poking his head up, she saw Lady Bonnaire’s men approaching the car. That was when Bryman popped up, and the men smiled. To Al’s confusion, they hauled him out of the car and embraced him, Bryman laughing as they patted him on the back and threw one of their jackets over him. Luc smiled, Al following them in a haze back to the hideout.

Making their way into the tunnel under the waterfall, Bryman was cheered as he walked back into the hideout. Mdme. Bonnaire laughed, grabbing Bryman’s face and kissing his cheeks. Guiding him to some bread, she let her men surround their comrade as she went to Luc. “A most impressive rescue, Mssr. Gaudin. I see my willingness to trust you has proven worthwhile.”

“We’re glad we could assist,” Luc said, smiling. “He wasn’t the only prisoner we freed, the Nazis were already executing them.”

“Unsurprising,” Mdme. Bonnaire said. “I am thankful for your help, Mssr. Gaudin. My men and I are in your debt.”

“Think of it as our mutual aid to each other,” Luc said. “We must stand together against the Nazis, or see ourselves cast into oblivion.”

“Artistic words,” Mdme. Bonnaire said, nodding. “Apt for a novelist. I feel we shall work well together, Mssr. Gaudin. My men and I will keep in touch, and keep you appraised of the Nazi actions in this area.”

“I am most appreciative,” Luc said, bowing at the waist. “We will take our leave now, Mdme. Bonnaire.”

“ _Au revoir_ ,” she said, going back to Bryman.

“We have done well, Alphonse,” Luc said, clapping Al on the shoulder as they left the tunnels. “Now that we are brought together, we can assist the Lady Bonnaire in gaining weapons from Santos and the British agents.”

“Right, sure,” Al said, his mind spinning. “Luc, Bryman said that his blood was a death sentence. What did he mean?”

“He may be Jewish,” Luc said, shaking his head. “The Nazis may not have realized who he was when they arrested him.”

“But he looked worse than the other prisoners,” Al said. “You’re saying that was only because he was a traitor?”

“Had they realized he were a Jew, they would have done much worse.” Luc sighed, leading Al back to the green of the park. “It may sound strange, a Frenchman shaming them for what they’re doing to the Jews after what happened to Dreyfus. Yet the stories we have heard from them, the pain they suffer in the Nazi ghettos, it makes one wish to make them pay as if they were already in Hell.”

Al was silent as he followed Luc back to the car, trying to ease his mind as he saw the figures swinging from the nooses when he shut his eyes.

* * *

Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery were playing cards on the second floor when they heard a roaring engine outside the Belle. Havoc didn’t go for his pistol, it was the only roaring engine he heard and there wasn’t any panic or screaming coming along with it. He heard the engine roll past the street, then die down close to the building.

“What the hell was that,” Breda said, still keeping his cards close. “Sure wasn’t a tank.”

“I don’t know, but -- ” Havoc was interrupted by the sound of cheers and laughter. Turning to see the main room, he saw Vittore and Sean walking out from the back. Vittore had his arm wrapped around Sean’s shoulder, the pair striding tall they drew everyone’s attention.

“Mssr. Rousseau!” Vittore called out. “We need drinks, I want to be drowned in alcohol!”

“What the hell,” Havoc said, moving to stare over the railing. “What the heck are they so happy about?”

“No idea, but it’s probably gonna be trouble.” Breda put his cards in his pocket, much to Fuery and Falman’s disappointment. “C’mon, we should check out what’s happening.”

Moving down to the bar, Havoc saw Mssr. Rousseau pouring two pint classes as Vittore and Sean laughed, Vittore slapping Sean on the back. “Hey there Sean,” Havoc said, keeping things cordial for now. “Sounds like you’ve had a fun time while you were gone.”

“Fun ain’t the half of it,” Sean laughed, taking his drink from Mssr. Rousseau. “Gen. Eckhardt’s gonna look like a bloody fool when Skylar and Asami go for that bloody dinner of his.”

“Is he?” Havoc tensed, now very worried about the roaring engine he heard earlier. “Why do you say that?”

“Because Sean has humiliated him,” Vittore said, raising his own glass. “The bastardo has had vengeance taken on him for all the thefts he’s committed over the years.”

“What do you…” Breda’s voice trailed off as his eyes went wide. “Oh no, no you didn’t!”

“What?” Havoc asked, turning to Breda. “What didn’t he do?”

“They stole one of Eckhardt’s race cars!” Breda shouted, the jaws of the Amestrians dropping in shock. “How’d you even manage that?!”

“What does it matter,” Vittore laughed. “You did a great thing Sean, a great thing!”

“A stupid thing,” Havoc groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “The team will be in that chateau by the end of the week, remember? This could put them in danger.”

“Come off it,” Sean said, still grinning as he held up his glass. “Eckhardt looks like a wanker now, your girls can use it against him, can’t they?”

Havoc said nothing for a few seconds, then he turned and went for the garage. “Breda, keep an eye on things, tell Mako and Bolin we’ll be handling something. Falman, Fuery, with me.”

“What’s going on Havoc,” Falman said, following along as Havoc pulled out a cigarette. “What are you thinking?”

“We’re going to Le Havre,” Havoc said, blowing out some smoke. “We’re gonna drop off our two prisoners, then we’re getting some information from Wilcox.”

* * *

Dierker smiled, reading over the report of the breakout from the Petit Palais. “Another pathetic show of incompetence from Gen. Eckhardt,” he said, smiling as he sat behind his desk. “Berlin will soon be calling for his return, they may even post him to the Ostfront.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that these French fighters are still loose in the city,” Franziska said, glaring out the window. “Including our prisoner that was interfering with our telephones.”

“He is of little consequence,” Dierker said, setting the papers down. “Our requested unit of the Einsatzgruppen has arrived and are training for action against these criminals. Combined with the weapons ‘donated’ by Eckhardt’s testing facility, our forces will root out and destroy the British and their French lackies.”

“And then we can finally send Sato back to her emperor,” Franziska grumbled. “Something is wrong about her, I swear it. Why can’t we find any information on the Mirai Concern if she has this much money to spend? And what kind of yellow whore goes around racing cars?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Dierker said, shrugging. A lecherous grin crept across his face. “Still, she is quite the beauty. Perhaps a closer partnership between our two nations could be called for?”

Franziska rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to think with your _schwanzstucker_ instead of your brain, don’t bitch at me when it turns around on you.”

“Oh, is someone feeling jealous?” Dierker’s smirk lasted up until Franziska marched to his desk, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him facedown on the mahogany.

Flipping over him, she wrapped her arm around his neck. “Are you forgetting who owns you,” she growled, Dierker choking for more air. “Who owns you, worm!”

“You do, mistress,” Dierker gasped, smiling like an idiot. “You do!”

“That’s right, I do,” Franziska hissed. “And we’re going to be a good little worm around Sato, otherwise you’ll be punished for real.” Dierker twitched under her grasp, Franziska smiling at her control over him. “Now, I think someone deserves to be reminded of his place.”

Outside the office doors, Dierker’s secretary groaned, burying his head in his arms as they began.

* * *

It was night by the time Havoc, Falman, and Fuery arrived in Le Havre. “Here,” Havoc said, Falman and Fuery throwing down the two Nazis in front of his desk in the back room. “Some information for you.”

“Information eh,” Wilcox said. The only reaction he gave was raising an eyebrow at the sight. “What can they tell me?”

“What you can give us,” Havoc said. “About Sean’s past.”

Wilcox’s face slowly broke into a grin.


	28. Chapter 27 - The Party

**Chapter 27 - The Party  
**

* * *

Asami took a breath, making sure she had everything she’d need ready in her cases. Skylar had made sure to get Korra and May the weapons they requested, both of them keeping their pistols and blades concealed under their skirts. Skylar finished with her bun, putting her glasses on and nodding to the three. “Remember, this will be a formal event of the Nazi leadership. Both of you will keep your mouths shut no matter what happens.”

“I don’t see why you’re so worried,” May said, shrugging. “I haven’t seen anything so terrible yet from the Nazis. Honestly, I think they’re really a bunch of overconfident fools. Bolin might have a personal issue about them, but they’re no worse to me than the clans from my homeland.”

“You may come to regret those words,” Skylar said. “Asami, are you ready?”

“Probably not,” Asami sighed, before putting on her mask. “Let’s go, the car is waiting and I won’t be late.”

Skylar nodded, bowing her head. “ _Jawohl._ ”

Donning her aviatrix, Asami strode into the halls of the Ritz. It was still early in the morning, but there were some Nazi soldiers and SS coming out of their rooms. They found themselves clearing a path for her as she moved, the glare she was giving off warning them away. Skylar walked close behind her, Korra and May walking with their heads down as they carried Asami’s luggage.

“Good morning Ms. Sato,” the front desk clerk said, trying to be as obsequious as a human could possibly be. “Will you require anything?”

“Only that my room not be disturbed,” Asami said. “I’d rather not find any unwelcome surprises when I return.”

“Yes, of course miss,” the clerk said, bowing with a smile.

Striding outside, Asami said two cars waiting for her. Turning, she pointed at Korra and May and pointed to the second car. The pair nodded, putting the luggage in the trunk as Asami and Skylar went to the first car. “Gen. Eckhardt’s chateau,” Skylar said, adjusting her glasses. “Quickly, we have an engagement to make.” The driver nodded, waiting until he saw Korra and May get into the second car before pulling away.

The clutter of buildings that was Paris soon gave way to picturesque countryside, though Asami had never really been a fan. The city was where she did her business, rural scenes of farms and fields weren’t where Future Industries made its yuan. That said nothing of all the trouble the less developed regions back in her world kept giving her and Korra every time there was a crisis or uprising or bandit issue.

“The dinner is only for tonight, Gen. Eckhardt has given you two rooms of the chateau. One for yourself, one for myself, and arrangements your maids. The evening will consist of a dinner and live entertainment, I would recommend staying among the guests until at minimum eleven. Gen. Eckhardt considers himself a gentleman, so I would be gracious with any and all compliments. Flattery will insult him, but playing to what he knows he is good at will be best.”

“Where Dierker is a typical meathead,” Asami said. “More focused on his status and ego than anything practical for anyone else?”

“An accurate, if impolite, assessment,” Skylar said, still maintaining her accent even with a partition between them and the driver. “Remember the objective of our socializing. Learning from Eckhardt’s production strategies is what your father needs right now.”

Asami grinned and thought, “ _Sister, you have no idea what my father needs right now._ ”

After a good three hours, Asami noticed warning signs in German on the side of the road. Turning to Skylar, she got a nod. They were almost there.

The car slowed to a halt, in front of a small checkpoint a half-mile before a walled compound. The guards called out for their papers, and as they showed them Skylar told them something in German. The guards nodded, then waved ahead as the gate was raised.

Asami saw a massive iron gate come into view as the car rolled up the hill the chateau was built on. Watch towers and searchlights ringed the walls, Nazi soldiers scanning the surrounding countryside. The gate groaned as it opened, the two cars rolling into a garden filled with statues and flower beds. To the rear, several platforms raised off the ground, all bearing race cars. Asami fought to keep her mask in place, desperately wishing she could sprint over and look over the cars for herself. They all looked like works of art, but that was from a distance. Getting up close, seeing them under the hood, getting her hands on the bolts and sprockets, that was what she couldn’t bear to ignore. She barely noticed that one of the platforms was empty.

The cars pulled up to a flight of stairs, leading from the chateau’s foundation to the house proper. A young officer waited at the stairs, snapping to attention as he opened the door for Asami. “Ms. Sato, welcome to Gen. Eckhardt’s chateau. The general is with his family at the moment, if you wish we can take you to your rooms.”

“That would be helpful, yes,” Asami said, looking and sounding bored. Turning to the second car, seeing Korra and May already grabbing the luggage and jumping out, she followed the officer.

The interior of the chateau was a slight step down from the Ritz, but that was like saying Tenzin was a slight step down from his father. Just because one wasn’t on the same level, didn’t mean it wasn’t impressive in its own right. Part of Asami wondered what had happened to the family that owned it before the war. The foyer was filled with antique vases and more statues, along with fine paintings of what Asami presumed was the past. Women in massive dresses, but impossibly thin waists. Men in outrageous suits of armor or frilly dress outfits. Asami wondered if this was an ideal of the past, or if it was truth.

“Your room is upstairs,” the officer said, moving with purpose as he went up the central staircase. “Your secretary’s room is next door, and your maids will have their own beds in the servant’s quarters.”

“Unacceptable,” Asami said. “My maids will be comfortable enough in the room with my personal secretary. Unless I have to talk with Gen. Eckhardt about this personally.”

“No, of course not miss,” the officer said, trying to keep any trace of terror from his voice. “I’ll see that your maids are taken care of.”

“See that they are,” Asami said. “I don’t think Gen. Eckhardt would appreciate your disappointing him in caring for his guests.”

The officer kept his mouth shut as he came up to one of the guest rooms, opening the door to reveal a smaller, yet no less exquisite room, than the Ritz suite. Asami made a show of inspecting the room, pacing about the bed and drawers over the soft carpet. “I suppose it will do,” she said, making sure she was more than condescending enough despite the sight of the room. “When will I be able to speak with Gen. Eckhardt?”

“I…I can ask for him miss,” the officer said, sounding unsure about his next move. “Excuse me, I will be back momentarily.”

As soon as the door was shut, Asami sighed. “I can’t wait to get back to the Belle. I always hated the people who acted like this back home.”

“You can pretend you aren’t part of the upper class later,” Skylar said, still keeping her German accent. “Something’s wrong, the Aurora is missing.”

“The race car Mr. Vittore made?” May looked out the window. “Why wouldn’t it be out there?”

“I have a few ideas, none of them pleasant for Sean once we get back.” Shaking her head, Skylar turned to Asami. “That was an excellent means of controlling our placement. Terrify that poor boy about his status with Gen. Eckhardt, forcing him to give us what we want. The trick will be ensuring the good general doesn’t rescind your decisions.”

“He won’t,” Asami said. “All I need to do is keep charming him, right?”

“Didn’t you hear what that officer said,” Skylar grumbled. “His family is here, including his wife. If you try to act like you usually do in front of her that could turn our plan around in a heartbeat.”

“Oh,” Asami groaned. Then she blinked and stared at Skylar. “Wait, he’s _married?!_ I didn’t see any sign he was!”

“He probably never wears his ring unless she’s around,” Skylar said, shaking her head. “We should…Korra, May, you’re still the help remember? Start putting Asami’s clothes away in case someone comes in.”

Korra grumbled as she opened the suitcase. “Yeah, well I’ll put your clothes away.”

“Oh, promises, promises,” Skylar said, grinning as Korra and Asami blinked. “As I was saying, we should try to play up his sense of being a father and husband. The old goat still tries to appear as if he has some sense of honor.”

“I can work with that,” Asami said, going to help Korra and May. “Does he have kids?”

“A son and daughter,” Skylar said. “Both under ten years old.”

“Okay, I think I can handle this,” Asami said, pulling out her evening dress. “But what about the Aurora? You think Sean stole it? There’s no way he didn’t know we were going to be here.”

“Even if he didn’t,” Skylar said. “He should know there are easier ways to commit suicide.”

A knock on the door held everyone in place. “Ms. Sato, Gen. Eckhardt says he would be honored to have you meet his family in the study.”

Asami turned to Skylar and got a nod. “Very well, I’ll be outside in a moment.” Giving Korra a quick hug, she put her mask back on and stepped back outside the room. “Lead the way.”

Following the soldier back to the first floor, Asami heard the laughter of children as she closed in on the study. Bringing her to a pair of ornate and thick wood doors, the soldier opened them to reveal Gen. Eckhardt laughing and skipping about the center of the room, bearing a small boy atop his shoulders as a middle-aged woman in a conservative dress held a toddler on her knee. The sight was a sharp contrast to what Asami had grown used to over the past few weeks, to the point where she didn’t realize her mask had slipped.

“Ah, Ms. Sato,” Eckhardt said, still laughing as he hoisted his son over his head. “I’m glad you could make it. Erik, this is Ms. Asami Sato, from Japan.”

“H-Hi,” Asami said, trying to put her mask back on. “It’s nice to meet you Erik.”

“ _Gutan morgen,_ ” the boy said, smiling as he looked up at Asami.

“And this is my wife Greta, and my daughter Lina,” Eckhardt said, smiling as he gestured to the pair.

“A pleasure,” Greta said, nodding to Asami. She had a gentle smile, with kind eyes that Asami hadn’t seen in too long. “I must admit that my husband surprised me when he said he was inviting a foreign guest to the dinner tonight. I hope you feel welcome.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Asami said, her mask still off. “It was an honor to accept the invitation. You have a beautiful family here.”

Eckhardt beamed, holding his son in his arms. “That is kind of you to say. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them, I decided that bringing them to France was worth the price.”

“I see,” Asami said, her mind skipping like a scratched record. As Eckhardt set his son down on the floor, he held his arm out to her. “Come, sit for a time. Can we get you anything to drink?”

“Oh, uh, just some water thank you,” Asami said, taking the empty seat next to Greta. Lina laughed, reaching out for Asami.

“I think she wants to make a new friend,” Greta said, smiling as she looked to Asami. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Oh, uh,” Asami couldn’t say anything else before Lina started leaning across the two seats. Trying to smile as she took the girl, Asami looked into her eyes and giggled.

“Adorable,” Eckhardt said, smiling as he ruffled Erik’s hair. “Well, I trust your trip from Paris was uneventful?”

“Oh, perfectly fine sir,” Asami said, not taking her eyes off Lina. “I will admit, I didn’t want my maids so far from my room. They’ll be sleeping in the room next to mine, I trust that won’t be a problem?”

“Certainly not,” Eckhardt said, Erik wandering to the desk in the room. “Being so far from home, I forgot you would want your staff close to you. Please forgive me.”

“No, I mean it’s perfectly fine,” Asami said, smiling as Lina grabbed her face. “Oh, sorry kiddo. I guess I’m not paying enough attention to you?” Lina laughed, before hugging Asami’s neck.

Eckhardt laughed, going to the desk and playing at looking for his son. “It seems we have another member of the family,” he said, playing at looking around the chair for Erik. As he did, his officer came in. He gave an order in German, the officer nodding and turning around.

“Tell me Ms. Sato, my husband says your family is involved in manufacturing,” Greta said. “What does your father hope to learn from my husband’s work?”

“Streamlined manufacturing processes,” Asami said, her mind shifting back into gear. “My nation is lacking in resources, and our current methods are considered too wasteful. With your husband’s help, I was hoping to give my father the means to help Japan stand strong against the Americans.”

“You’re such a loyal daughter,” Greta said, smiling as she put her hand on Asami’s shoulder. “Doing all this for your father, he must be so proud of you.”

The officer came back in, bearing a silver tray laden with a pitcher and glasses. What surprised Asami was the camera that was there as well. Thanking the officer, Eckhardt went back to searching for his son. Roaring out, he laughed as he snatched his son from under the desk, Erik giggling as his father held him high. Saying something in German, Eckhardt watched as his son ran to Asami’s side. Taking the camera in hand, he lined up the shot. Asami froze, turning to stare at the children. Their big innocent eyes stared back at her, smiling up at the woman they didn’t know was trying to stop their father.

Eckhardt pulled his face from the camera. “Are you alright my dear?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Asami said, putting on a smile. “I don’t have any siblings of my own, you understand. I’m ready.”

As she smiled for the picture, she felt her gut tangle up in a knot.

* * *

Dierker rolled through the checkpoint to the gate of the chateau, his eyebrow up as he pulled into the courtyard. “Something’s wrong, there are more guards.”

“Their entire posture is different,” Franziska said. “They’re on edge. Something happened.”

Pulling up to the front of the house, Dierker got out to see a lieutenant waiting. “Good afternoon, sir. Gen. Eckhardt is entertaining one of his guests now, if you wish I can take you to your room.”

“You may take my luggage,” Eckhardt said, walking past the officer without so much as a salute. “I wish to speak with Gen. Eckhardt now.” The lieutenant did nothing, there was no way he could say anything against the SS equivalent to a colonel.

Moving through the house like he was a pony parading through pasture, Dierker threw the doors of the study open to see Asami playing with Eckhardt’s children, Eckhardt and his sow-wife watching. “Dierker,” he said, glaring at the unannounced entrance. “I wasn’t expecting you this early.” Greta’s smile shrank, and her children moved to their mother’s side.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Dierker said, turning to Asami. “Ms. Sato, a pleasure to see you here as well.”

“Col. Dierker,” Asami said, Dierker not realizing the mask that slammed down on her face at the sight of him. “I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here, I suppose. And your assistant, Francis, yes?”

“Franziska,” she growled.

“I’m surprised to see you in the study Ms. Sato,” Dierker said, looking toward the window. “I would have thought you’d be out with Eckhardt’s collection. Well, our collection, really. We won it together, after all.”

“Yes, Dierker was the lead racer for my team before the war,” Eckhardt said, moving between Dierker and his family.

“Ah, but what’s this,” Dierker said, some surprise in his voice. “Our latest prize is missing?”

“A minor issue,” Eckhardt said. “The Aurora needed to be taken in for some minor repairs.” Asami kept her mouth shut, better to let Eckhardt dig his own grave.

“Well, there’s no reason we shouldn’t be willing to show the rest of them to Ms. Sato,” Dierker said, turning to Eckhardt. “It would give you more time with your family, after all.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Asami said, standing from her seat. “We do have time before dinner at any rate. Please, colonel, let’s see these prizes.”

As the door to the study shut, Greta turned to her husband. “I can’t stand that man, Karl. You never should have let him be the lead racer for your team.”

“I had no way of knowing he would be allowed into the SS officer ranks,” Eckhardt said, moving to the window. “Besides which, these issues in Paris have put me in an unenviable position.”

“Then you must find a way to stand against him,” Greta said, holding her children close. “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” Eckhardt said, following Dierker, Franziska, and Asami as they walked toward the cars. “Still, that’s the only thing I can trust about him.”

Outside, Dierker walked up to the first car in the lineup. “ _Das Silberpfeil_ , the Silver Dart, the car that I used to make my name in the early days of my career. It was my use of it in the Monaco Grand Prix that drew Eckhardt’s attentions to my skills.”

“Impressive,” Asami said. Dierker puffed his chest out with pride, until Asami walked past him and started moving up the stairs next to the platform. “This must’ve been an impressive car that long ago.”

Dierker cleared his throat and said, “Yes, it certainly was. It wasn’t enough however, not when the Italian companies had their engineers working on their cars at the rate they were. Eckhardt put his own to work on the solution, and developed _Das Silberklaue_. Unfortunately, we can’t display the machine here due to what happened after the last race I ran before the war. An unfortunate accident I’m afraid.”

“A pity,” Asami said, moving for the next platform. “The Dart already looks rather advanced after all. What happened?”

“Why do you ask,” Franziska said, glaring at Asami. “Surely it isn’t that important.”

“It is if the techniques used to manufacture it can be put into our military vehicles,” Asami said, ignoring Franziska as she moved to the next car. “The designs of racing engines are works of precision engineering, capable of operating at taxing rates where any other type of engine would fail. If you’d bothered to do your research, you’d know that studying these engines can help with further developments.”

“You must forgive Franziska,” Eckhardt said, moving up to the platform Asami was on. “She is skilled at handling criminals and bandits, but her knowledge of engineering and mechanics is somewhat lacking.”

“Clearly,” Asami said, passing Dierker as she moved to the next car. “A shame I can’t see the factory where these cars were made. I’m sure this would assist my father’s work.”

“Yes, your father’s work,” Franziska said. “Speaking of that, why is it that your embassy in Berlin has failed to retrieve any information on the Mirai Concern? Perhaps something is wrong?”

“Perhaps you should remember we’re at war,” Asami said, her mind racing for the right excuse. “Our enemies could easily trace any information in these communiques. I’ve already heard stories that British agents are active in this country, I wouldn’t want them moving any information to the Americans that could harm my father’s operations.”

“Of course not,” Dierker said, glaring at Franziska before he moved to Asami. “I am so sorry for her behavior Ms. Sato. She’s always been one of my most reliable subordinates, I can’t imagine what’s happened recently.”

“I don’t mind,” Asami said, opening the hood on a car with the name “Beta Romero” on the side. “Whenever someone is out of their element, they tend to react with unease and become defensive. You, for example.” Asami savored the look of confusion and split-second of rage that flashed across Dierker’s face. “After all, if there were anything you weren’t skilled in, I’m sure you’d be acting like she is.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Dierker said, smiling as he fought back against his own reaction to Asami’s jab. As Asami dove into the engine, he noticed Eckhardt glaring at him from the chateau.

“Still, an impressive collection,” Asami said, shutting the hood as she put on a disappointed tone. “A shame I’ll never see any of them race.”  
  


Dierker blinked, thinking for a minute before saying, “Perhaps there is a way,” he said, the wheels turning with strain in his head. “I do know there are certain unofficial races on the outskirts of the city. It wouldn’t do to have the commander of the Gestapo in the city race in them, but perhaps I could ensure that you’re able to attend?”

“Really,” Asami said, dropping her mask for a moment. She played with her voice, making herself sound hopeful and needy. “You could do that for me?”

“Certainly,” Dierker said, puffing out his chest again. “It would be no difficult task to see you can partake in the European racing style.”

“Thank you so much,” Asami said, slipping Dierker a small smile. “Perhaps my father would be willing to give you a place to observe our own cars once the war ends?”

“Ridiculous,” Franziska hissed, storming up to Asami. “You can’t believe she’d really do that for you!”

“I’m sorry, I seem to have offended you,” Asami said, her mask dropping back into place. “It’s probably getting late anyway. I should go and get ready for dinner. Col. Dierker, Franziska.” Nodding to the pair, Asami moved for the front of the house. This would be an interesting dinner.

* * *

Three hours later, Asami stepped out of her room in her evening dress. It was modest, revealing nothing while still accentuating her features under the fabric. Skylar and May had put her hair up, two pins holding a small bun in place as strands of her hair fell down the sides of her head. She descended the stairs of the chateau, hearing light conversation and laughter coming from the outside. As a pair of young officers stared at her as she moved, she paid them no mind as she moved for the door.

As she’d been preparing herself, Eckhardt’s staff had been preparing the courtyard for the night. A string quartet played next to the steps, as waiters in white suits moved among the crowd. They wore military uniforms and expensive suits, the women in beautiful dresses, pearls and diamonds hanging down between their breasts. Tables were set among the flower beds and statues, everyone holding a glass as they snatched hors d’oeuvres from passing waiters.

Dozens of faces turned as Asami entered the party, everyone talking among themselves as she scanned the crowd. The younger women whispered behind their hands, some behind fans, and Asami could hear their words. “Who’s the hussy,” they said to each other. “Who does she think she is to come into our territory?”

The younger men whispered the opposite end of the spectrum. “Who’s the beauty,” the said to each other, grinning and sipping their drinks. “And who do I have to compete against to get her in my room tonight?”

A is A.

Asami made her way to the center of the party, ignoring the confused looks on everyone’s faces as she passed dignitaries and businessmen. She found Gen. Eckhardt in his full regalia, his wife on his arm in a flattering but conservative dress with lace at the collar and cuffs.

“Ah, Ms. Sato,” Greta said, clapping her hands as Asami came up. “You look radiant tonight my dear, an absolute vision.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Eckhardt,” Asami said, bowing to her hosts. “Your husband’s work speaks for itself, the Silver Dart is a work of precision engineering.”

“ _Danke schoen_ ,” Eckhardt said, snapping to attention at the compliment. Asami noticed his wife giggle at the reaction. “Ah, I see you found your evening wear from Ms. Chanel. I confess no eye for fashion, but her acceptance of our administration in Paris tells me she is of a sound and forward-thinking mind.”

“I’m sure she is,” Asami said, giving a polite smile. “But where are Erik and Lina?”

“Oh, this party would bore them terribly,” Greta said. “We left them with one of the house staff.”

“Ah, Ms. Sato!” Asami didn’t react, even though the desperate desire to cringe almost overwhelmed her. Dierker had found her. “I was worried you would take so long to be ready that you wouldn’t make it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Asami said, turning to flash her smile at Dierker. What caught her off guard was the sight of the typically leather-bound Franziska in a proper uniform, albeit still one worn by the SS.

“May I say, you look ravishing tonight,” Dierker said. “May I kiss your hand?” Asami held out her satin-gloved hand, face placid as Dierker took it and planted a longer kiss than necessary on the back of it.

“Pardon miss,” a waiter said, coming up to the five with a tray of drinks. Asami pulled her hand from Dierker’s, reaching out and plucking one of the wide glasses from the tray.

“I hope you approve of our champagne tonight,” Eckhardt said. “The finest in France from what I understand.”

Asami put the glass to her lips, but didn’t drink too much. Even if it bubbled like Cactus Juice, she could taste the alcohol in it. Getting drunk, surrounded by Nazis? It would be easier to walk up to the leader of the Triple Threat triad and spit in his face, that would be a quick death.

“This is a fine party sir,” Asami said, looking around the courtyard. “I’m surprised to see so many people here actually. I wouldn’t have expected it with the war raging.”

“If anything, such times are when we need these parties,” Eckhardt said, smiling as he looked over the crowd. “I even made sure to invite several other leaders of Germany’s manufacturing and industrial concerns. With luck these connections may be what you and your father are looking for.”

Asami noticed Dierker sneer a little, and decided to drive the wedge deeper. “That’s so thoughtful of you Gen. Eckhardt. When I talk to my father next, I’ll make sure he knows that you were the one who made this happen.”

Then, as Eckhardt beamed, she turned to Dierker. “Col. Dierker, I do know that I haven’t heard how you won the races that filled up the platforms behind us. I’d love to hear about them.”

Dierker grinned, motioning that Asami follow him to the nearest table.

Korra ground her teeth as she watched Asami and Dierker move off to a separate table, her knuckles going white as she gripped the curtain beside the window.

“Korra, maybe you should take a break?” May came up behind her, trying to smile. “I can watch the party for a time, you should rest.”

“I’m fine,” Korra said through her teeth. “Just making sure Asami is okay, that’s all.”

“You’re terrible at lying,” May said. “Really Korra, it isn’t worth if you’re gonna be worked up all night.”

Korra sighed, turning away from the window. “Right, right. Fine, I’ll head back down to the room. Thanks May.” May patted Korra’s arm as she went to the window, leaving Korra to shuffle downstairs back to the bedrooms.

She walked inside their room to see Skylar reading a book at the desk. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Somewhat,” she said, setting the boom down. Korra saw it was titled, “The Great Gatsby”. “I wouldn’t be so worried about your love. Even the Nazis wouldn’t be so stupid as to murder her in the middle of a party like this.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Korra said “It’s the whole ‘Throw her in a deep dark hole where we can’t find her’ idea that’s got me worked up.”

“Rather understandable,” Skylar said. “Be thankful their egos are bigger than their brains, otherwise this plan would fall apart in seconds.”

“Okay, comments like that? Not helping.” Korra groaned as she fell onto the bed. “I blame you for why we’re wearing these outfits by the way.”

“Go right ahead, those pistols in your bodice are what could save Asami’s life if we need to act,” Skylar said, shrugging. “I’m more impressed that the OSS came up with a plan this clever. They’d expect anyone with a German or French name and family. You and Asami, and young May? The perfect agents to throw any Nazi suspicion off the trail.”

“Yeah, great idea,” Korra groaned into the comforter. “How much longer until we get what we need?”

“This party should be our tipping point,” Skylar said. “Eckhardt and Dierker will be all the more driven to compete for Asami’s attention. The first one to get her into the factory thinks they’ll win. Of course, Asami may be expected to hold up an unspoken part of the bargain.”

“What are you…” Korra’s eyes went wide as she groaned, her face twisting in disgust. “You’re not serious!”

“Given what I’ve heard about Dierker’s proclivities, Eckhardt may be the better choice,” Skylar said, sighing. “Some things never change no matter where you go.”

Korra blinked, then turned to face Skylar. “What do you mean?”

“I suppose Asami and I come from similar worlds,” Skylar said, staring at the wall of the bedroom. “My family travels in the same social circles Asami does in America, though I couldn’t stand it myself. All these ideas about status and names and titles, while there’s an entire world that couldn’t give any less of a damn about all that bollocks?”

“Oh,” Korra said, shifting to sit up on the bed. “So, I guess you aren’t very fond of this whole plan either.”

“Were it my choice, I’d have called down a bomber strike to destroy everything in a mile of this chateau,” Skylar said. “As it stands, I have my orders. The sooner we figure out what’s inside Eckhardt’s factory, the sooner we can end it.”

“Fine, I guess we can suffer a little more,” Korra said, sighing as she pulled the lace headpiece out of her hair. “At least the night can’t get any worse than this, right?”

“It can,” Skylar said, growing quiet. “They aren’t drunk yet.”

* * *

Asami was on autopilot after the first two hours, apparently Dierker loved talking about himself as much as he did racing. Then again, it might as well be the same thing for him. It was broken up by talking with old men in suits, all of them bearing swastika lapels and talking to Asami like she was an idiot. It wasn’t hard to turn the tables on them when she heard her ask about their efforts to out-manufacture the Americans and British.

The food had already been served, hearty sides of beef, plenty of green vegetables, and more bread than she knew what to do with. She kept sipping at her drinks through the night, doing her best to avoid getting drunk. That didn’t stop the rest of the party from going wild with their drinks, downing champagne and wine in endless streams.

Greta rose from her table, kissing her husband’s cheek as she left for the house. Asami’s eyebrow went up, but she was interrupted when Eckhardt rose and started tapping his knife on his glass.

“ _Damen und Herren,_ ” he said, smiling with reddened cheeks. “As the dinner is almost over, I feel it only appropriate we bring out tonight’s entertainment!”

Asami blinked. Entertainment? No one had mentioned anything about entertainment. The crowd clapped, cheering as they started working themselves up. That was when Asami saw two of the guards come into the party, a man in torn white shirt and patched trousers thrown to the ground before them.

“This is our guest of honor tonight,” Eckhardt said, leaving his table to walk up to the struggling man. “Our friend here was arrested in Picardie, a traitor to all civilization. He is, my friends, a communist.”

Asami was shocked by how vitriolic the reaction to the man was. Even the daintiest of the women were howling at him like they were Equalists and their “guest” was Korra. Some of them even started throwing their scraps at him, one or two throwing their drinks.

“As our friend wishes to be red, I propose we give him what he wants,” Eckhardt said, holding up a red banner with a large, sharp pin. The crowd cheered and clapped, the prisoner trying to escape the grips of his guards. “Who will be first!”

Dierker was up in an instant, though he wobbled on his feet as he went up to Eckhardt. Asami noticed that their typical enmity was gone, both of them grinning as Eckhardt took the banner and turned toward his target. Eckhardt said something in German, and Franziska went up. Grabbing one of the napkins from the table, she wrapped it around Dierker’s eyes. Laughing, Dierker stumbled forward. The guards turned the prisoner around and bent him over at the waist, the man screaming in French as the crowd laughed at him.

Asami shuddered, watching as the high society of the Nazi government laughed at the torture of this man. She didn’t know what a communist was, Bolin would tell her later. What she did know was to them, attacking him with a pin was a party game. Dierker stumbled forward, following the man’s shouts. Laughing, Dierker surged forward, slamming the pin down on the man’s lower back.

Every ounce of Asami’s focus was on keeping her mask up, on not rushing out to beat the guards down and save the man, if only for a few seconds. Dierker pulled his napkin up and laughed, and when he called out to the crowd in German they all laughed. “ _Spirits,_ ” Asami thought. “ _He meant to miss._ ”

Dierker spoke again, and Eckhardt laughed. Franziska went to tie another napkin around his eyes, but Eckhardt stopped her. Still smiling, he grabbed a salt shaker. As Dierker handed him the pin, Eckhardt coated it in salt. Blindfolded, he stumbled forward toward the prisoner. The man thought he could stay silent, but the crowd and guards kept calling out to Eckhardt.

Dierker doing this was one thing. Eckhardt a few short hours ago was a smiling father letting his son ride on his shoulders, taking a picture of his children with a new friend. Now here he was, about to slam a salt-coated pin into another human being. Amon, Unalaaq, Zaheer, Kuvira, none of them were ever this depraved…

Kuvira.

Everything Bolin had done fell into place in Asami’s mind. Every snarl, every dead Nazi, every blood-red armband, and she realized this was everywhere the Nazis held power. As Eckhardt slammed the pin into the man’s back, as the prisoner howled out in pain while Eckhardt twisted the pin in, Asami felt herself start to crack. With each Nazi in a suit, each officer in a gray or black blouse, she realized this wasn’t normal, but encouraged in their world.

“Ms. Sato!” She snapped out of her thoughts, seeing Eckhardt holding the bloody pin up. “Come, the Bolshevik wants to show he’s a red, after all!”

Asami rose, repeating in her head, “ _I need to keep my cover._ ” She took the pin from Eckhardt, blood dripping off it as the man cried out. As the crowd cheered her on, Franziska came up. The worst part was that the antagonism in her eyes was gone. She was that excited to see this man suffer.

Napkin tied around her face, Asami stumbled forward. The world was darkness and jeers now, calls for her to hurt the man held captive before her. Her mind raced, the cheers growing louder as Asami moved closer. She could hear the man crying through it, shouting and cursing in French about the “bosche”. Asami’s mind and heart raced, trying to figure out a way to avoid doing the man any harm while satisfying the Nazis surrounding her. Stumbling around a few more seconds, Asami cried out and slipped in her heels.

The crowd roared with laughter, Asami taking her time to stand as she played at being tipsy. Eckhardt said something to the crowd, walking over to help Asami up. “I’m fine,” she said, putting the slightest trace of slurring in her words. “I think I need to lay down, I’m so sorry about this.”

“It’s alright,” Eckhardt laughed, guiding Asami up again. “It was a pleasure to have you here tonight, Ms. Sato.”

As Asami started to walk back to the chateau, two younger officers hurried forward with two small buckets. Turning, Asami watched them splash the prisoner with bright red blood. She heard the Nazis call out “ _Schwine! Bolshevik schwine!_ ” and laugh before the next “player” got up.

As the laughter echoed across the courtyard, Asami made her way through the front doors of the house to see Greta coming to the landing of the stairs. She looked confused, and for a second Asami thought that maybe she might not approve of what happened.

Then she asked, “Are they almost done, Ms. Sato? Karl can get so wrapped up in his parties, and the children are already asleep.”

“They’re…going to be a while,” Asami said, using the last of her energy to keep her voice stable. “I’m sorry, but I’m quite tired. Goodnight, Mrs. Eckhardt.”

Moving through the halls in a daze, Asami half-stumbled up to Korra’s room. Knocking on the door, she saw Korra open up for her. “Hey, you okay babe?”

Asami was silent as she moved into the room, dropping her pocketbook as she shut the door behind her. Her mask broke, her face the very expression of anguish as she stumbled out of her heels. Her eyes flooded, her voice hitching as she fell into Korra’s arms. There was no hope of putting her mask back on now, sobbing into Korra’s shoulder and repeating, “I didn’t hurt him, I swear I didn’t! I didn’t!”

“Okay, okay you didn’t,” Korra whispered, guiding Asami to the bed as she tried to figure out what just happened. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

While Asami fell onto the bed beside Korra, Skylar closed her book and stood up from the desk. “I’ll find May. You can both take this room tonight. Make sure the door is locked.”

Korra nodded, pulling Asami close and letting her get it out. She couldn’t think of anything to say, Asami kept repeating, “I didn’t hurt him, I swear I didn’t hurt him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The worst part about writing Nazis: No matter how cartoonishly evil you write them, you always know they were worse in real life.


	29. Chapter 28 - Recovery

**Chapter 28 - Recovery**

* * *

Havoc stood in front of the remaining MALP, sighing as he relayed everything that had happened. “That’s about where we are right now, sir. The Resistance has some new connections, and the British are moving on with their plan to sabotage the Nazi command’s efforts.”

The note from the gate said, “Maj. Carter has discovered several factors that prevented success with the last recall. She anticipates she can make another test in three weeks.”

“Jeez, that’s a while,” Havoc said, sighing as Bolin watched for any unexpected guests. “We’re starting to go a little crazy here, sir.”

The note: “It’s the best we can do, captain, not unless we risk everyone’s lives with untested techniques.”

“Right, sorry,” Havoc said. “Anyway, the team that went to the chateau should be back today. They’ll tell us how things went before we start taking down the Nazis in the second zone of control.”

The note: “Understood. Keep your people alive until we figure out where this interference is coming from.”

The gate cut out, Havoc sighing as he grabbed another cigarette. “Another three weeks, and that’s if we’re lucky.” Shaking his head, he walked back to Bolin. Patting the earthbender on the shoulder, the pair walked back to the Belle to see a pair of cars out front. Moving a little faster, they made it in through the doors to see some of the girls gathered in groups in the main room.

Asami was the one who caught their attention, mainly for how she looked: Terrible. The typically pristine CEO looked like Ed and Al after their first fight with Scar. Her hair was barely done up in a ponytail, her outfit disheveled and wrinkled. Korra was up against her, wrapping a protective arm around her girlfriend. May sat off to the side, looking bored in spite of herself, Skylar standing among the group glaring at Sean. Veronique was busy glaring at Skylar in the meantime Everyone else was scattered among the tables, Sean looking bored as he kicked his feet up with a fresh cig between his lips.

“Good, you’re back,” Skylar said, not breaking her glare. “I think we need to have a discussion on coordinating plans and operations.”

“That we do,” Havoc said. “I’d start with the guy that went off on his own to steal a car that’s of no importance to this operation.”

“I figured as much,” Skylar said, shaking her head. “Luckily Eckhardt’s party was more important, he needed to save face among his ‘betters’.”

“Sorry if I decided to throw some egg on the bastard’s face,” Sean said, eyes shut as he leaned back on the table. “He needed to pay for what he’d done anyway.”

“Yeah, you’d know about that,” Havoc said, glaring at Sean. As Sean sat up, Havoc turned to Breda and said, “Get it.”

“Get what,” Sean said, glaring at Havoc. “Some kind of surprise you’ve got?”

“First,” Havoc said, turning to Asami. “You need a break?”

“Yeah, I think I do,” Asami said. “Sorry Havoc, but I saw something at the party…” She trailed off, leaning her head into Korra’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Havoc said, nodding to the pair. “Besides, I think we’re all about to learn something important. Sean, you want to tell them before I do?”

“Tell them what,” Sean said, eyes narrowing. “Something you plan on letting the rest of us know?”

“Last chance,” Havoc said, glaring at Sean. “I think my people deserve to know who they’re fighting with is all.”

Sean glared at Havoc, then at Breda as he walked up with a manila folder. “Do what you want,” he grumbled, moving for the stairs. “I’m getting myself a drink.”

“Sit down,” Havoc said, pulling a gun on Sean. The Irishman froze, then settled back into his seat. Everyone else was staring at Havoc as he did so. Everyone except May and Skylar. “So, has anyone made any guesses about Sean? Any at all?” Silence. “Okay, then let’s crack open the file.”

“Havoc, please,” Skylar said, turning her face away. “It’s enough to slap Sean’s wrist as it were, this isn’t necessary.”

“I think it is,” Havoc said, nodding to Breda. “He’s already had a history of making hotheaded choices, maybe he needs a quick reminded of what happens when he does.”

“Sean Devlin, member Irish Republican Army,” Breda said, reading through the file. “Belfast Brigade, along with father Ryan and several uncles. Suspected in the bombings of four Royal Irish Constabulary barracks, the murder of several British officers and officials in Belfast. Though suspected of the murder of politician William Twaddell, individual was never brought in for arrest.”

“Bombings, shootings, assassinations,” Havoc said, smiling as he tapped his ash off. “Quite the terrorist, aren’t you?”

It was like a bomb went off in the heads of Al and the benders. Their eyes went wide, turning to glare at Sean. If Havoc had to say it, their weren’t shooting daggers at Sean. No, it looked more like battleaxes.

“A…terrorist,” Korra hissed. “You’re a terrorist?”

“I was fighting to free Ireland,” Sean spat, not looking at anyone. “None of you had a problem with how I’ve been helping fight these fucking Nazis.”

“So, that makes all the innocent people you killed in Ireland fine?” Korra rose from her seat, balling her fists. Asami rose up behind her, rage drowning out whatever pain she was still going through. “I guess I’m surprised. Fighting actual soldiers must be a nice change of pace from killing innocent people.”

“I never killed any innocent man,” Sean spat, turning on Korra. “Fucking Americans, don’t know shit about anything! You’re fine using us as soldiers in your wars, but you’ll damn us when we fight the people who’ve enslaved our home!”

“What about this last entry,” Breda said. “About your family farm?”

The fire disappeared from Sean’s eyes, even if his face was still enraged. “Don’t you do it,” he whispered. “Don’t you go talking about what happened.”

“Go on Breda,” Havoc said. “Tell them.”

“April 10th, 1922,” Breda said, reading on. “The farm of Mr. Ryan Devlin experienced a barn fire. Evidence discovered on-scene indicates Mr. Devlin was storing munitions for the IRA. Mr. Devlin died in the course of trying to extinguish the fire and was caught in the blast of detonating explosives. Initial cause of the fire remains undetermined.”

“How about it Sean,” Havoc said, glaring at the Irishman. “Think you know how that fire started?”

“That’s enough Havoc,” Skylar said, stepping in front of Sean. To Havoc’s surprise, Veronique was there as well. “Sean’s not answering for any of that.”

“Oh, he is,” Korra said, still glaring. “We’ve seen what terrorists do before. What was it, you rigged the wrong bomb and blew your own dad up?”

“I stopped my dad,” Sean whispered, staring away from them all. “It I hadn’t lit that fire there’d be more dead men in Belfast right now.”

“Then start talking,” Havoc said, glaring at Sean.

“My dad and uncles, they hated the treaty,” Sean said. “They said Mick Collins betrayed us, that the fucking Big Fella was a traitor. They said they were going to keep the war going against the Brits, that they were gonna make Ireland force the North back into the Republic. Only to do it, they were going to kill the leaders of the IRA in the North.” Sean shook his head as he crushed his cigarette into the tray.

"Kill our own leadership,” Sean whispered. “Not just them either, anyone who supported the treaty. They were talking about killing friends, family even. People we’d fought side by side with for three years against the Brits, and for what? Because they didn’t get a pipe dream from London?”

“So, you killed your father to stop him from killing other people,” Havoc said, his voice low. “Why’d you have to flee then?”

“My dad only trusted maybe four people to be in that barn, and I was the only one of’em there that night.” Sean’s fist clenched as he went on to say, “If it wasn’t going to be the Brits arresting me for murder, the IRA were gonna do it because I destroyed one of their stockpiles. For killing my dad.”

Havoc nodded, putting out his own cigarette. “Well, that explains why you’re so good at this job,” Havoc said. Then he turned to Skylar and asked, “You don’t mind he was a terrorist?”

“The relationship between Britain and Ireland has always been, shall we say, complicated,” she said, as Veronique took a seat next to Sean. “Are you done now?”

“Pretty much,” Havoc said, taking out a new cigarette. “I’ve got a few things to talk over with my team in the back room.”

No one said anything as they made their way into the back, the girls of the Belle backing away as the team moved through the main room. As the silence deafened, Havoc waited for them to all move into the back room. Shutting the door behind them he had enough time to turn around before Korra pinned him against the wall.

“How long did you know,” she shouted. “How long did you know we were working with a terrorist!”

“You wanna let me go,” Havoc grunted, not reacting to Korra pushing him against the concrete. “I usually do better at talking when someone doesn’t have an elbow in my chest.” Still glaring, Korra backed up a step. “Thank you.”

“Give us an answer Havoc,” Asami said, glaring at the soldier. “How long did you know he was a terrorist?”

“I had an idea for a while, at least since we broke Le Crochet and his men out.” Bending down, Havoc picked up the cigarette Korra knocked loose and put it back where it belonged. “I didn’t say anything because no one seemed to mind.”

“How could you Havoc,” Al said, shaking as he stared at the man. “You knew he was that kind of person, and you didn’t tell us?”

“Considering without him we’d be groping for an idea of what we were doing?” Havoc shook his head. “I don’t see why you’re all complaining.”

“You don’t?” Korra half-laughed at the words. “Oh, yeah, because working with a terrorist is totally normal.”

“Should be, considering you’re one too.” Havoc watched as Korra’s face froze, eyes going wide. “Or didn’t you realize it.”

“Hang on, what are you talking about,” Mako said, stepping forward. “We’re not terrorists, none of us are.”

Havoc chuckled, taking his cig out to blow his smoke. “Aren’t you? Let’s go way back to the Equalists. How’d you fight back against them once they took over? What about Korra’s dad and friends in the Southern Tribe? Hell, you committed crimes against the Earth Queen without legally declaring war or acting as a government agent.”

“No, hang on,” Mako said, moving in front of Korra. “We did that to save people!”

“And I’m sure Sean was doing the same thing in Ireland,” Havoc said. “Even if the British didn’t think so.”

“Havoc, what’s wrong with you,” Al said, sounding like he was trying to hold on to some trace of reality. “You’re talking about this like it’s right to do!”

“Well, how do you think we took down Bradley,” he said, sounding more like he was bored than angry. “We bombed a rail line, took hostages, if we weren’t playing at being terrorists that day then I’d sure like to know what we were doing.”

The room fell silent, Havoc putting his cig back between his lips. “Look, we’re all having a bad time while we’re here. Personally, I’d have taken the chance to go back to the SGC even if I wound up missing a limb or two, especially if I’d known how crazy all this shit would get. So, here’s the new plan: You all shut up for two days and think about what our situation is. If we’re going to pull back and stay quiet, I need to know that. If we’re going to go get ourselves killed fighting Nazis, well you can do that. I plan on making it back alive and taking a nice long soak when I am.”

Korra’s team and Al looked over his men and May. He knew where the heartbroken faces were coming from, it was the lack of reaction from his people. He saw the bored expression on Breda’s face, the stern expression on Falman, the neutral face on Fuery. He saw them as clear as if they were in front of him, and he could take a guess on May. Turning, he saw her looking away from Al. She looked hurt, but not by anything she’d done. Havoc knew the reason. She couldn’t bear to see Al slapped across the face again.

“Like I said,” Havoc grunted, pushing himself off the wall. “We’re taking a break. Korra, Asami, you’ll figure out what you were doing with Skylar. I’ll get word to Luc and the Resistance, then we’re back into it.”

“That’s not enough time,” Korra hissed, her head turned to the ground. “We can’t go back in two days.”

“What about what we learned about Dierker? ‘Three weeks’, remember? One of those weeks is gone, and we have to get moving.” Throwing his cig down and crushing it under his heel, Havoc threw the door to the dressing room open. “I, personally, am going to spend the night drinking terrible beer watching near-naked women in a desperate life situation parade themselves in front of a bunch of fucking bastards that deserved death the minute they left the womb. Anyone that wants to is free to join me.”

Storming back into the dressing room, he found himself face to face with Skylar at the door. “Personally, I don’t care what you said to them,” she said, looking bored. “I do, however, find myself wondering what the point of doing that to Sean was.”

“Keeping him in check,” Havoc said, pulling out a fresh cigarette. “He wants to go off and put my people at possible risk? He has to know that I’d have no issue with pulling the trigger on him. Course, now I’m wondering why you’d spend any time with him if he’s had a time killing your people.”

“They weren’t ‘my people’ before the war,” Skylar said, rolling her eyes. “Bishop recruited me out of college, a sexed-up blonde following the racers? Draws less suspicion than your typical agent. When I met Sean, he was a wickedly witty rogue on his way to the continent.”

Havoc’s eyes narrowed. “Then it didn’t matter that he was the same nationality of the people who’d been killing British soldiers and officials?”

“Hardly. Irishmen have quite the wit in their arsenal.” Skylar grabbed the cigarette from Havoc and took out her own lighter. “Helps seduce every woman they meet I suppose. It must distract from the abysmal situation my government left them in.”

“Figured,” Havoc said, scowling as he pulled out another cigarette. “Look, I’ll try to reign my people in. You know him best, I’ll trust you to take care of it.”

“I think that’s better left to other parties,” Skylar said, jerking her head up at the bar. Following, Havoc saw Sean, Veronique, and Vittore sitting with their backs to the main room. “You’re right that your people are starting to feel strained though. Like you said, best to sit back and watch the night’s entertainment.”

As Skylar walked off, Havoc sighed. Lighting up, he made his way upstairs instead. The bar looked like it was cut off for the night.

Hours later, the back room of the Belle was quiet, no one wanted to say much of anything. The soldiers were all out in the main room, the music from the stage muffled through the concrete.

Korra and Asami held each other, eyes empty as they sat up on the bed. Mako sat on one of the boxes, Bolin slumped against the wall near him. Al had chosen to curl up on himself, knees pulled close to help him cover his eyes from the world.

May was the only one not struggling to hold herself together. She sat watching the group as they struggled to parse the information bombarding their skulls.

“ _I can’t understand it,_ ” she thought. “ _Everything Alphonse went through? The stories I saw on the television about what Korra and her friends had to face? I don’t understand why they’re so afraid to face what’s in front of them._ ”

Shaking her head, she made her way into the dressing room. “ _How do they expect to survive what’s out there?_ ”

* * *

Eckhardt stood out on his chateau’s balcony, staring out over the dawn as she smoked a cigar. It had belonged to the former occupant of the home, but said occupant had long-since fled in the face of Rommel’s blitzkrieg. Luckily, some men didn’t see the value of a full humidor when fleeing the new German military.

His wife slept quiet in the bedroom, but not from a ravishing time the night before. No, as always it was a gentle kiss then right to sleep. The monotony of it was enough to almost drive him insane before he realized a man could find other outlets.

A car was pulling up, marked with Gestapo flags. Rolling his eyes, he went back into the bedroom and threw on his dressing gown. Cigar still smoldering, he came down the front stairs to see one of his staff opening the door.

The black trench coat-wearing filth looked over his staff officer. “Gen. Eckhardt? Orders from Berlin regarding your facility in Doppelsieg.”

“I see,” Eckhardt said. “And how much space does the SS need now?”

“The information is in this letter sir,” the slime said, holding out a sealed envelope. Rolling his eyes, Eckhardt went over and snatched the letter clear. As his staff officer stood between the Gestapo and him, he read the letter.

“ _In accordance with the Fuhrer’s wishes…Proceed immediately…All available resources!?_ ”

Eckhardt looked up, holding the letter in his hand at the man. “What is this? Dierker is taking control of my entire factory? Do you have any idea of what we’re working on in that building!”

“Those are my orders,” the Gestapo said, not breaking his blank expression. “These are yours, sir.”

“That they are,” Eckhardt said, glaring at the paper. “Very well, I will need at least a week to move one of my projects closest to completion.” The Gestapo snapped his heels together, saluting. Eckhardt nodded, giving a half-hearted salute back before the agen turned to his car.

“Lieutenant,” Eckhardt said. “Draft a new order. We’re moving the XJ-05.”

“ _Jawohl, mein herr,_ ” the soldier said. “Where will we move it too?”

“Perhaps somewhere closer to my command,” Eckhardt said, puffing away at his cigar as he crumpled the letter up. “Contact our garrison in the Château du Haut-Kœnigsbourg. Tell them to prepare for the prototype’s arrival in one week.” Tossing the letter away, he paused and looked outside. If Dierker wanted to be difficult, Eckhardt knew he could be just as troublesome back.


	30. Chapter 29 - Arc de Triumph

**Chapter 29 - Arc de Triumph**

* * *

Al was still foggy as he rode with Luc to Lady Bonnaire’s hideout. The past two days were spent trying to rebuild his shattered mind. The rest of the team had been quiet about it, only talking to him about breakfast or the state of the Belle. Never about how he’d been forced to reckon with his own aid in committing terrorism.

“Lady Bonnaire has more work for us it seems,” Luc said. He’d found out about what had happened, but for the most part had kept apart from the mess. “She said we will see what the Nazis are planning when we pass the Arc de Triumph.”

“Fine,” Al mumbled. He didn’t pay attention on the way, until the car started pulling past the arch. There were at least a dozen Nazi trucks pulled up around it, surrounded by soldiers unloading what Al through were bricks. Until he saw them open up as they threw them into piles. “Wait, are those books?” Luc grunted as he drove into the park.

The picket that had held them up before let them pass this time, and going into the cavern under the farmhouse he saw Bryman working on a pair of radios as Lady Bonnaire stood over him.

“Ah, Mssr. Gaudin,” she said, turning to face the pair. “I see you and your American friends are back to work.”

“Lady Bonnaire,” Luc said, bowing slightly to her. “Our friends have made a breakthrough regarding the Nazi command. We wanted to see what you might need, however.”

“You are young men, and I am a very old woman,” Lady Bonnaire said, leading the pair to her table. “So, I will tell you something of the ways of the world. Wars are not fought with bullet and bombs alone, you see. In order to destroy a society, one must first destroy its culture. Art and literature can become powerful weapons in such battles. The Germans understand this truth better than anyone.”

“Wait,” Al said. “Does this have to do with why the Nazis were piling books up nearby?”

“It has everything to do with it,” Lady Bonnaire said, easing herself onto her seat. “The man responsible is Gen. Loder. He’s made it a personal mission to aid the SS in destroying the cultural heritage of France.” The noblewoman paused, glancing at Luc. “You are familiar with him, Mssr. Gaudin?”

“Too familiar,” Luc grumbled. “Then he will be at this next burning?”

“Bryman has been monitoring the radio transmissions from the Wehrmacht. He will arrive to light the first piles himself.” She turned to Luc, her eyes afire as she spoke. “Thousands of priceless volumes and editions have already been destroyed. We must put an end to this atrocity.”

“Wait, I still don’t get it,” Al said. “Why are this general focusing resources to burning books? Wouldn’t it make sense for them to pacify us before moving on to destroying these books?”

“Burning these books is what they think will pacify us,” Luc said, his eyes set. “The Nazis wish to destroy anything that fails to glorify their twisted ideals. Anyone who objects is made an enemy of the Reich.”

“And Loder is preparing to do the same under one of our great cultural monuments,” Lady Bonnaire said. “I think you may be the best man to stop him, Mssr. Gaudin.”

“Very well madame,” Luc said, bowing again. “We will need the help of your men however, to make sure the Nazis are occupied as we kill Loder.”

Lady Bonnaire paused, then turned to Bryman. “Yosef, can you misdirect any reinforcements that will respond?”

“Ja,” Bryman said, nodding to Lady Bonnaire. “But not for long.”

“Do what you can,” Lady Bonnaire said, turning to Luc. “All of you. My men can be positioned around the Arc in half an hour. When they start shooting, kill Loder.”

_“_ _Merci beaucoup,_ ” Luc said. “Come Alphonse, we must move.”

Al kept silent as they moved through the cavern, but as soon as they were driving back toward the Arc de Triumph he said, “Luc, why is she working with Bryman?”

“You don’t trust him,” Luc observed, guiding the car out of the park. “You didn’t think that some Germans are criminals to the Nazis as well?”

“No, I just wonder if we can trust someone in this position,” Al said. “How do we know he isn’t a Nazi plant? Someone to get inside the Resistance?”

“A fair question,” Luc said, guiding the car back onto the boulevard leading to the Arc. “We will confer with Lady Bonnaire. After we kill the Nazi.”

The pair were quiet for the rest of the way, until they arrived at the edge of the plaza to see a small crowd ringing it. Parking the car, Luc was moving before Al had even opened the door. He followed Luc through the crowd, realizing he was in a sea of raw emotions. He heard muffled sobs and bitter cries. He saw old men stare ahead with grim resolve as young couples held each other. Mothers tried to turn their children away, as tears sprinkled the stones. Thick black smoke billowed from the Arc de Triumph, and Al realized he could hear a voice over a speaker system.

_“_ _The corrupt culture of this decadent nation will be purged in the fires of righteous purity!_ _”_ The voice boomed over the plaza, some of the civilians flinching as it was boosted across their city. _“_ _There will be no place for deviant intellectualism in the new Pan-European Fatherland!_ _”_

Al broke through the crowd to see the Arc surrounded by Nazi soldiers. Some were standing before towering bonfires around the arch, others were in the trucks throwing more books onto the fire. Al could only watch as everything from cheap paperbacks to gargantuan leather-bound volume from centuries past. Al could smell the faint stink of the fuel in the flamethrowers being used on the tomes, watching the red banners bearing the swastika flapping in the updraft from the fires.

_“_ _They call it art,_ _”_ the voice said. Al could see a halftrack in the center of the arch, obscured by the smoke and heat. _“_ _Ha! Nothing but_ _garbage!_ _Perversity and lies! We will not tolerate this filth for another minute!_ _”_

Al tried to reckon with what he was seeing. Literature had been his escape from many of the silent nights and monotonous train rides when Ed was sleeping. He’d read everything from cheap pulp novels to classics of Amestrian literature. He hated seeing books destroyed on purpose, but this was different from the destruction of the First Branch by the homunculus. The Nazis didn’t look like they were trying to destroy any secrets.

“Luc,” Al whispered. “Why are they doing this?”

“It’s as their general says,” Luc said, his voice locked in a tranquil loathing of the sight. “They see these books as a threat to their Aryan master race.”

Al tensed as he watched more trucks roll up with books in the back. More books were thrown atop the bonfire of the consonants, their target still extolling the “virtues” of burning whatever the Nazis deemed offensive. His rational mind struggled to rectify what it saw with what it knew was real. Burning books, any books, because they were “dangerous”? And what was wrong with being intellectual? The Nazis considered intelligence an offense against their rule?

He noticed Luc was a statue at the edge of the crowd, motionless as he watched his country’s literary history turn to ash. _“_ _That’s right_ _,”_ Al thought. _“_ _Luc was a novelist. His books are probably being burned in there as well._ _”_

[A shot](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17IsfhAY_E0) from one of the buildings. The Nazis flinched, the crowd screaming and scattering. The plaza was filled with gunfire, the Nazis and Resistance trying to match each other. The guns on the backs of the trucks opened up, raking the buildings as Nazi soldiers dropped and cried out. Resistance fighters fired from the rooftops and windows, too far to be truly effective but close enough to panic the Nazis.

_“_ _What the –_ _”_ Loder called out. _“_ _The criminals! Kill them, kill them now!_ _”_

As the crowd surged and panicked, Luc sprinted ahead. Pistol out, he charged for the Arc firing at the nearest Nazi. The soldier fell, unnoticed in the chaos of the fighting. Grabbing the fallen rifle, Luc turned and fired on the nearest gunner. The Nazi slumped over the back of the truck, and as Luc pressed forward, he cut down a Nazi with a flamethrower. The soldier called out, then a half-second later exploded as his tanks were breached.

Even twenty yards away, the heat from the washed over Al. Trying to keep up with Luc, one of the older books landed in front of him. He stopped, bending down when he recognized the symbol on it: The alchemic symbol for gold.

Al didn’t notice Luc charge into the heart of the Nazi book burning, decking jackbooted soldiers and putting rounds in their heads. He knelt down and tried to beat the flames away. From the age of the book alone, it was clear this was something a brilliant alchemic mind probably put down ages ago.

_“_ _They wanted to burn this?_ _”_ Al shook his head, staring at the singed text. _“_ _This probably has valuable knowledge in it, what are they thinking!_ _”_

Shouting behind him. Al flinched, and spun around to see a pair of Nazis rushing at him. Raising his pistol, he tried to fire at the pair to keep them away. The soldiers dropped, Al missing all his shots.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t fight.

He caught the first Nazi in the jaw, feeling the soldier’s bones dislocate before sending a hard knee into his gut. The second soldier tried to fire, but Al was too quick and threw his pistol in the Nazi’s face. Throwing his first dance partner to the ground, Al jumped and caught the second in the gut. The pair tumbled to the ground, the firefight around them forgotten as they dueled with each other. The Nazi tried to shove Al off, but Al had faced better foes than him. Putting his fist into the Nazi’s face and neck, Al left his foe gasping for air through a bloody nose. Grabbing his pistol, Al shook off the red mask that had enveloped him and looked for Luc.

The plaza around the Arc was a free-for-all. Nazi soldiers tried to find cover behind their trucks, but the Resistance had surrounded them. The Resistance were covered by the bricks and stones of Paris, raining fire on the Nazis thanks to their constant raiding and theft. Proud soldiers of the Third Reich, the strapping manhood of the Aryan future, were cut down by the mongrels of “conquered” France. Poor Parisian laborers put out of work by the war fired alongside ex-government clerks and soldiers in hiding. Men prayed to the Virgin Mother as they fired, watching through their sights as the Nazis were cut down.

Al ran through it all, his eyes taking in everything. The sight of the piles of burning books threatening to drop him from the heat. The dead and wounded Nazis surrounding it all, and the whizzing of rounds through the air. _“_ _I just got my body back too,_ _”_ he thought. _“_ _Ed and Winry will kill me if anything happens to it!_ _”_

Luc was in the middle of the Arc now, ducking behind it as Gen. Loder fired the machine gun atop the halftrack. “French swine,” he shouted. “How dare you interfere with the glorious cleansings of the Reich!”

Luc was silent, waiting for the general to turn his attention elsewhere. He remembered his time in the trenches, the importance of good strong cover against machine guns. He was more worried about the soldiers trying to move around him. Three were already dead to his rear, and one more was crying out for help. Checking to make sure no one could shoot him while he did, Luc put a round through the Nazi’s head to silence him.

“Luc,” Al shouted. Running up, he listened as Gen. Loder kept shouting. “What do we do?”

“Even if Bryman is misdirecting the reinforcements, we have little time.” Peeking around the corner, Luc ducked back when dozens of rounds went flying past. “I will go up behind him, you must keep him distracted.”

Al nodded, watching Luc move out of sight. Waiting for a break in the fire, he leaned around and fired his pistol in Loder’s direction. He ducked back as another burst cut through the air.

Luc moved around the rear of the halftrack, watching Loder fire at Al. Part of him wanted to be dramatic, to clamber up into the halftrack and say something about how the fires of the books would only add to his heat in Hell. Instead, Luc raised his rifle and fired.

Loder slumped forward, Al poking his head out from behind cover a half-second later. “Come Al,” Luc shouted. “We must not linger!”

“No, one second,” Al shouted, sprinting back to where he came from. As the Nazis and Resistance kept fighting, he searched the ground and found it. Grabbing the alchemic tome, he sprinted back to Luc to see him sitting at the driver’s seat of the halftrack. “Okay, I’m good!”

“Then man the machine gun,” Luc shouted as he started the engine. “We’re driving out of here!”

“We’re what?!” Al dropped the book and clambered into the halftrack. “Can you even drive this thing?!”

“It’s designed to be driven like any other truck,” Luc shouted, the gears screeching as he shifted them. “Quick, on the gun!”

Al groaned, clambering back to stand behind the gun. “Okay, you don’t have to actually shoot them,” he thought. “You just need to shoot near them. It’s a machine gun, it’ll scare them away.”

The halftrack lurched forward, Al shuddering with the chassis as Luc rolled forward. Gripping the gun, he saw the Nazis still fighting against the Resistance surrounding the Arc. Al put the butt of the machine gun to his shoulder and squeezed. Then part of his soul left his body when the weapon jerked back into his shoulder. He could barely keep control as the barrel swayed to the right, Nazis scattering from the rounds and careening halftrack.

Back against the boulevard to the park, Luc stopped the halftrack and jumped from the cab. Al reached down, ignoring the body of Gen. Loder as he grabbed the alchemic tome laying next to him. Holstering his pistol again, he sprinted with Luc back to the hideout.

* * *

Eckhardt slammed his phone down, the noise echoing through his office back in the Pantheon. He tried to control his breathing, but the news that Gen. Loder was dead put his mind in a red haze.

A knock came to his door, Eckhardt instantly bottling his rage. “Come in.”

The door opened, a lieutenant showing Franziska into the room. Nodding, the lieutenant shut the door on the pair, Franziska taking the seat across from Eckhardt’s desk. “You just received the news.”

“Credit where it should be given, Loder was killed manning a gun.” Eckhardt leaned back in his chair and sighed. As Franziska took off her cap, he stared out the window. “This resistance grows bolder by the day. The fuhrer demands we hold Italy now that the Allies have landed, and Patton waits to invade Calais. The longer we lie about our ‘forces’ in North Africa, the closer we are to a full-scale revolt through France. Dierker?”

“He plans to make examples of anyone he deems necessary,” Franziska said. “Berlin has already given him permission. The gallows are being raised in _Place Vendôme.”_

Eckhardt shook his head. “And his ‘Terror Squad’, their status?”

“Ready to deploy,” Franziska said. “He plans to put them to the streets once we find the Resistance's headquarters.”

As Franziska unlaced her corset, Eckhardt tapped at his desk. “I have an idea. One that might force Dierker’s focus away from what he should actually be doing. A race, held before he can carry out whatever fool idea he has.”

“It would hold his attention,” Franziska said, leaving the corset on her chair. “He’ll be so busy racing he won’t realize the city’s slipping further out of his grasp.”

“Meaning I’ll get my factory back to what it should be doing,” Eckhardt said, as Franziska unbuttoned her shirt. “Dierker still doesn’t suspect your role?”

Franziska smirked as she threw her shirt aside. “That idiot doesn’t know how to piss without my hand guiding him.”

“Typical SS,” Eckhardt said. “Once he’s done away with, I’ll see you take his position immediately.”

“I look forward to it,” Franziska said, turning around. As Eckhardt turned his chair, he was treated to the sight of her bent over and removing her leather trousers. “But first, what do you look forward to, Herr Eckhardt?”

* * *

Resting back in the hideout, Al held the book tight in his hands. The binding was scorched, and the edges of the pages were charred, but he’d managed to save an invaluable alchemic tome.

“Lady Bonnaire is thankful for our efforts,” Luc said, sighing as he settled into a chair next to Al. “Though it took convincing to help her understand that we couldn’t save the books that were burned.”

“Then at least her people are more trusting now,” Al said, daring to smile a little.

Luc nodded, leaning over to see the cover of the book in Al’s hands. “A book regarding alchemy? You would think the Nazis would…No, I am corrected.”

Al blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“The name of the author,” Luc said. “He was Jewish.”

Al glanced at the name of the author, Gottfried Lowenthal. “His name was enough to have the book burned?”

“He was a Jewish writer,” Luc said, shrugging. “Of course, even if he wasn’t? It wouldn’t have saved his work.”

“Hang on,” Al said, flipping through the singed pages. “This book could hold valuable knowledge _._ Why would they burn it?”

“It matters not what their reasons are,” Luc said, shrugging. “My books were burned because I dared to write that Germany’s defeat in WWI was because of their own failings. The Nazis don’t like people who argue that they weren’t stabbed in the back.”

“I don’t understand,” Al said, shaking his head as he leafed through the tome. “They made you a criminal because you wrote that what they think is real isn’t?”

“The Nazis live in another reality,” Luc said. “They blame Jews and communists for their nation’s defeat in WWI, when they were the ones who unleashed Lenin on the Tsar. Tell me Alphonse, do you think the Nazis have any concept of honor? After everything you’ve seen, do you believe they care about morals?”

Al looked over the book. He couldn’t make sense of the language, but maybe this could help the SGC understand alchemy. “Are you saying I’m wrong for sticking to mine? I still helped you against the general.”

“I also noticed you fighting with those two soldiers,” Luc said. “It wasn’t like the times before, Alphonse. There was a passion to your fighting.”

Before Al could say anything, Lady Bonnaire came up to the two. “Excellent work today, both of you, Loder was swine, and his death will warn the rest that the French culture will not be destroyed so easily."

"It was our pleasure," Luc said, bowing his head. "Thanks to Bryman, we were able to escape with ease. He was invaluable to our efforts."

"Yes, Bryman has been a great help to us," Lady Bonnaire said, looking over to the man. Then she noticed Al's face, looking uneasy as he heard them praise Bryman. "You fear the fact that he's German?" Before Al could respond, she turned and said, "Yosef? Could you join us?"

Bryman looked up from the radios and came over, smiling as he joined them. "Yes, m'lady?"

"Yosef, I need you to explain something to Alphonse," she said, nodding to Al. "Our American friend still doesn't understand why a German might oppose the Nazis."

"Yes, he mentioned that when he helped me escape," Bryman said, looking insulted as he turned to Al. "If you're worried I'm trying to infiltrate the Resistance, I can't blame you. I'd fear infiltrators too in this situation."

"Yosef came to me in '37," Lady Bonnaire said. "He was alone by then, the rest of his family had been arrested or killed by the Nazis."

"I don't understand though," Al said. "What did they do to deserve that?"

Bryman shook his head. "They were Jewish, for the Nazis there's nothing more to deserve it."

Al tried to rationalize what he was hearing. "They hate anyone that's Jewish? That doesn't make sense though. I mean, did the Jews do anything to Germany?"

Yosef blinked, then said, "Wait, you really think we did something to deserve this?"

Al suddenly felt uneasy. "I mean, it doesn't make it right," he said, noticing the stares from Lady Bonnaire and Luc. "I just can't believe that you've treat someone like that because of who they are. I mean, there had to be some reason, right?"

"Ah, you speak of the lie that Germany was stabbed in the back," Yosef said, leaning against the wall of the cavern. "Yes, Hitler loves that particular one. Why Jews would stab Germany in the back when France and Russia hated us as much is beyond me."

"No, that, that can't make any sense," Al whispered, not noticing the looks coming from the trio. "How can you hate someone if there's not even a reason? It doesn't make any sense, there's no way anyone that's sane could go along with that. How could you convince an entire nation to do it?"

" _Mon Dieu,_ " Lady Bonnaire said, turning to Luc. "He really doesn't believe that there isn't a reason."

"I didn't think Americans were this uninformed," Bryman said, joining them in French as Al's eyes started to turn unfocused. "I thought he was American secret service."

"I think the Americans are less able in certain areas," Luc said, shaking his head. "I'll take him back to La Villette." Going up to Al, Luc took him by the shoulder and guided him out of the caverns, Al still clutching the alchemic tome.

* * *

Asami stared out the suite’s window, listening to the sirens wail in the distance.

“There was another attack,” Skylar said, turning off the radio. “Seems a Nazi general wanted to burn some books. According to the report the ‘dastardly terrorist’ Luc Gaudin was responsible.”

“At least he’s keeping busy,” Asami sighed, turning away from the windows. “What about the race?”

“Tomorrow, 9 o’clock sharp,” Skylar said. “May will go with us. Korra…”

“She needs a day or two more,” Asami said.

Skylar nodded, but the silence was broken again when she said, “She’s taking this all rather hard.”

“My friends and I, we faced someone that did what Sean had done in Ireland,” Asami said, turning away from the window. “He claimed that to make everyone equal, some people had to lose everything.”

“Ah, a communist,” Skylar said. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that as left as the IRA can be, they aren’t communists if that’s the problem.”

“It isn’t,” Asami said, not knowing what a “communist” was. “Terrorists, they nearly hurt a lot of people close to me. Knowing Sean is one of them, it’s a lot to take in.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Skylar said. “We can worry about personal tragedies and traumas later however. Now, I managed to contact one of Santos’ people. They found an old Beta Romero for you to race in. Poor thing is in worse shape than the East End right now, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I’ll look it over once we’re at the race,” Asami said, settling into a chair in the room. “It can’t be any worse than the first car I worked on. That thing had maybe three working cylinders and a stripped gearshift, and I could still win a few races with it.”

“Well, this won’t be a race in your little neighborhood back home,” Skylar said. “These will be hardened underground races from across France, maybe even Germany. You think you can handle their type?”

Asami grinned, for the first time in what felt like ages. “No one tells me what I can’t handle.”


	31. Chapter 30 - Speed and Slipknots

**Chapter 30 – Speed and Slipknots**

* * *

Asami checked the car over, listening as the other racers and the spectators gathered about each other before the race. The car she’d been “loaned” was barely better than the test vehicles in the Future Industries garages, and worse looked like it hadn’t seen much in the way of decent maintenance in years. About the only good thing Asami could say about it was that it was designed to look like a race car. She saw similar designs like hers on the side of the starting line, but to compare those to her ride? It was comparing fresh apples to a dark, splotchy banana.

“You can’t really go in a race in this thing,” May whispered, echoing her mind. “This thing’s falling apart, Asami.”

“It’s the best option we have,” Asami whispered back, tightening one of the gaskets. “Besides, it’s not like we have many options out here.”

They were on the southern outskirts of the city, Asami wearing trousers and a tight leather jacket. She’d ignored the stares and excited grins from the other racers, all men as she’d expected. That wasn’t her biggest problem though, not when her car threatened to fall apart before she even started the race.

“What’s your plan though,” May whispered. Skylar had decided to let her dress in street clothes this time. No fear of Eckhardt appearing to ask why she wasn’t wearing his “gift”. “Some of those cars look brand new, you couldn’t possibly beat them with this.”

“Not if I’m trying to drive it like a better car,” Asami said, grinning as she pulled her head out from under the hood. “Depending on where the course runs, I’ll know exactly what to do.”

“Ms. Sato?” Asami turned to see a man walking up, wearing a white racing jumpsuit marked with a symbol that Asami hadn’t seen yet; a circle with a pair of wings on it, with two lightning bolts and an iron cross in the center. “It’s good to meet you, miss.”

“Thank you,” Asami said, throwing up her mask. “But you are…?”

“ _Obersturmfuhrer_ Miller, miss,” he said, snapping to attention. “I was part of _Standartenfuhrer_ Dierker’s racing team before the war.”

“Ah, I see,” Asami said. She wanted to say more, but better to show him who he was dealing with first. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, Dierker did mention some of the garrison’s officers would be taking part in these races.”

“I consider it an honor miss,’ Miller said. “Col. Dierker spoke highly of your technical knowledge. I’ve never seen the Japanese style of racing before however. I am very much looking forward to seeing it on display today.”

“Then you’ll get what you’re hoping for,” Asami said, flipping her hair for effect. “Unfortunately, this was the best car I could find.”

“A shame, yes,” Miller said, shaking his head at the car. “The Beta Romero was a good car fifteen years ago, but now she shows her age.”

“What about your car,” Asami said. “What are you driving?”

“Ah, my pride and joy,” Miller said, his face brightening up. “Before the start of the war, I managed to buy an Altair fresh from the factory. Come, let me show you.”

Asami followed Miller to his car, a red-and-white two-seater with a massive engine, a low center of gravity, and what really killed Asami; a fresh coat of paint. “She’s my pride and joy,” Miller said, sounding like a boy showing his crush his new bicycle. “I saved up every mark I had to buy her, she’s not quite at the same level as anything from Herr Eckhardt but she’s still an amazing car.”

“I can see that,” Asami said, running her hand over the hood. “Horsepower?”

“580,” Miller said, smiling as he watched Asami feel his race car. “She corner’s a little wide, but she rules the straights like a queen.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Asami said, flashing a grin at Miller. “Good luck, even though I’m sure you won’t need it.” As Miller smiled at the extra sway Asami gave him as she walked back to her car, the CEO was already coming up with ideas.

“I know that kind of look,” May said, staring at Asami. “What is it?”

“One thing about racing on dirt,” Asami said, putting her goggles on. “Terrible traction. C’mon, help me roll her into place.”

Asami was starting at the back of the line, she hadn’t proven herself after all. If she wanted to start at the front of the pack, she needed to prove she was a real wolfbat behind the wheel. “Remember, we’re out as soon as the race is over,” she said. “If what I have planned works, we’ll want to make sure Eckhardt and Dierker see us in a better light.”

“Right,” May said, watching as Asami strapped herself in. “Is there anything I should check?”

“Nothing you’d know to look for honestly,” Asami said, pulling her goggles down and tying her hail in a quick ponytail. Checking her mirrors, she winked at May. “See you at the finish.”

The cars roared to life, powerful racing engines waking to do battle. Asami’s car didn’t sound the loudest of the pack, but she didn’t mind. The thrumming of the transmission through the car, the pulse of the pistons and the grip of her gloves on the wheel. Korra was the avatar, but Asami knew her mobiles.

A woman stepped into the center of the two lines of cars, the side of her dress bearing a long slit that showed off her long, nylon-clad legs along with the garters holding them in place. If it weren’t for the fact she was surrounded by Nazis, Asami would’ve even appreciated the sight. As the crowd’s cheers made it over the engines, the flag girl bending forward to show how loose her blouse was.

“ _Spirits, I hope Korra’s feeling better when I get back._ ”

Standing back up again, the flag girl held the green flag aloft, and brought it down.

Asami ignored the dust that covered her face, the wave of exhaust that overwhelmed her nose, and focused on the race. Even if it was a rust bucket, her car jumped as she slammed the pedal down. The race was already off to a strong start, Asami playing aggressive as she forced two of her opponents away, giving her clear room into the middle of the road. Shifting gears, she ignored the screaming of her transmission and pulled ahead.

As she cleared a small hill, she felt the car go airborne. That was fine, she’d had to deal with that plenty of times since she’d known Korra. She kept the wheels as straight as she could, making only slight corrections as she landed. One of the other racers didn’t realize that trick, and spun out on the dirt. The car behind him didn’t have time to react, and both were out. Two down.

The course was marked with black and white signs, giving her precious seconds to correct and prepare for what would come next. Until she realized the signs were pointing the racers toward a small village. “ _No, no this can’t be right,_ ” she thought. “ _We’re racing through a town?_ ”

The town was small, a scattered collection of buildings centered on a building that Fr. Denis called a “church” and a small market. She saw people scattering off the road, mothers pulling children into houses as the men glared at the racers. Asami gritted her teeth and pressed forward, controlling the racer's skid as she took the circle in the center of the town.

The signs told her she was going off the road now, and she gritted her teeth as pressed dirt turned into grass and rocks. The mobile shuddered, Asami staying tight to the corners as the signs told her to loop around the village. She saw Miller leading the pack, his mighty racer crashing through a wooden fence as he came back onto the road. Asami was five cars behind, focusing on the best way to get in front of him.

The road from that point was a straight away, until Asami realized that she was getting closer to the skyline of the city. “ _No, now they have to be kidding,_ ” she thought. Looking ahead, she saw a checkpoint into the city. She also noticed Miller wasn’t slowing down. “ _Well, better him than me through the gate._ ”

Miller crashed through the wooden gate, taking a sharp right on the cobblestone streets. Asami followed behind with the rest of the leaders, dodging and ducking as her mobile screamed through the streets. Ignoring the sight of civilians jumping out of the way, Asami managed to make it to fifth place as they came back onto the dirt roads at the edge of the city.

Rounding a lake, Asami followed the leaders to the banks of the Seine. She noticed Miller slow as he came on the turn, precise as he made the bank to run alongside the river. Asami started to put together her plan, and shifted up. Pressing the mobile closer to the red, she passed two more of her opponents as she came up to the start line again.

Daring to glance back, she saw most of the pack had fallen away. It was her show now, and as she gained she noticed Miller glancing back as well. Grinning, she pressed harder. She could feel the engine starting to whine, and noticed as small plume of white smoke starting to emerge from under the hood. “ _C’mon, you’re not some Cabbage Corp knock-off,_ ” she thought. “ _Just a little more, a little more!_ ”

Gripping the wheel, she saw her chance to jump ahead when she saw a group of soldiers congregating at the checkpoint. They called out for the racers to halt, and she knew Miller wasn’t going to listen. He was one of Dierker’s men after all, and he wasn’t about to listen to Eckhardt’s orders. The two other leaders weren’t as confident, and as they slowed Asami jumped ahead. As Miller cleared the checkpoint, Asami followed through back into the city again.

The mobile hugged the corners, and as she came back out onto the dirt she’d almost made it up to Miller’s Altair. Rounding the lake gave her more gains, and as she closed she saw the disbelief on Miller’s face as she came up on the inside of the route. Flashing him a smile, she gunner her engine as they came up on the Seine.

With Asami hugging the inside, Miller was forced to try and take a wider turn as he gunned his engine to get ahead of her. That’s when it happened: The rear of his car started to fishtail. Before he realized what was happening the rear of his prized car was hanging over the river. As Asami flew past him, she gave him a wink as his precious car fell into the river.

She roared across the finish line, spinning her car around the girl at the start as she waved the checkered flag. Hoping out of the race car, she patted the hood as white smoke started to billow out of it. Pulling her goggles off, she watched the crowd as they rushed up to her on the side of the route.

“Please, please everyone, I just want to rest now,” Asami said, holding her hands in front of them as she made her way through their number. She saw May waiting for her at the mobile they’d taken to the race, watching as the girl jumped into the passenger seat before the crowd could get too close. “I think right now, you should all worry about Miller getting some dry clothes.”

Getting in the back of the car, Asami took her mask off and sighed. “How’s the car?”

Skylar looked over to the Beta Romero, black smoke starting to billow out from under the hood. “It’s been better. What happened to Dierker’s racing lackey?”

“Taking a swim in the river,” Asami said, grinning. “Hope he can do that better than he corners.”

“I saw he was driving an Altair too,” Skylar said, putting the car in gear. “Shame, those things are rare since the Americans bombed the plant that made them.”

Driving back into the city, Asami only let her mask on a little. She enjoyed the stares coming at her from the women hanging on the arms of the Nazis, the confused glances the officers were throwing at her. She could hear their questions as she walked through the lobby, pulling off her gloves. “This is Asami Sato? Where are her fine clothes and painted face? Who’s this racer that seems to have taken her place?”

Ignoring them all as she went back to her room, she threw her door open to see Korra in the middle of the room. She was practicing her water bending techniques, her arms flowing and weaving through the air. She didn’t look up from her practicing, she knew that if the door wasn’t being broken down it wasn’t anything to worry about.

Asami took the moment to watch as Korra practiced, smiling as her girlfriend moved into earthbending. Korra stomped the floor, then threw some punches that, if she had her bending, would’ve sent massive blocks of earth flying through the air.

“Hey,” Asami said, breaking the silence. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better, I guess,” Korra said, looking to Asami. “How’d the race go?”

“I won, technically,” Asami said. “Left one of Dierker’s idiots floating in the river.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Korra said, grinning as she walked up to Asami.

A knock at the door. May disappeared into the bedroom, Skylar and Asami putting their masks on as Korra answered.

“ _Guten tag, fraulein_ Sato,” Dierker said, smiling brightly in the doorway. “I heard about your victory in today’s race, it was most impressive.”

“Credit where it’s due,” Asami said, brushing some errant locks from her eyes. “Your man, Miller, he drove well.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Dierker said, strutting into the room. “Miller was one of our weaker drivers, but I’m glad he was a worthy opponent for you.”

“ _Hardly,_ ” Asami thought. “ _That idiot thought having the better car would get him the win._ ”

“I apologize for stopping by so soon after your race,” Dierker said. “But I had to let you know about the event being organized tomorrow. The execution of several captured terrorists.”

“Really,” Asami said, keeping her mask strong. “A rather public affair, wouldn’t you say?”

“The people of Paris must be reminded of the consequences of terrorism,” Dierker said, dismissive of Asami’s words. “I would be honored if you would attend with me.”

Asami glanced to Skylar and got a nod. “I have a clear schedule then,” Asami said, turning back to Dierker. “Where and when should I arrive?”

“I will send one of my men to take you to the Place Vendôme,” Dierker said, smiling as he beamed at Asami. “I cannot wait to see you at this demonstration of my abilities, Ms. Sato.” Snapping his heels together, Dierker walked back out of the room.

As Korra shut the door, Asami turned to Skylar. “Alright, why are we going to a public execution?”

“Dierker will be there,” Skylar said. “If he lets anything slip as he brags to Asami, we can relay the word to Luc and Sean. Eckhardt will have questions on why a race was allowed to occur that cut through one of his checkpoints, and letting Sean loose against something he was protecting will make up for Havoc’s actions the other day.”

“What about Asami,” Korra said, moving over as May came out of the bedroom. “If this is gonna go crazy, what about her getting out safe?”

“Oh, it’s so heartwarming to see a maid so concerned for her mistress,” Skylar said, cocking her eyebrow. “Suffice to say that if the shooting starts, we’ll both be running back to the Ritz. We can leave the rest to Sean and Luc. I’ll get word to them, you wash up.” She smirked as she went for the door. “I’m sure Korra would love to help clean you up after the race.”

Korra glared at Skylar as she left. “What I hate is that she’s right.”

* * *

Bolin stared across at his food, like he was looking over a concrete wall for color as he rested his jaw on the table. The fact that his lunch had almost gone cold was beside the point, the look wouldn’t escape his face. The thin strip of chicken and potato sat waiting for him, but the normally ravenous earthbender did nothing to even give a hint he’d have the plate.

“Hey,” Breda said, walking up. “This seat taken?”

“Go ahead,” Bolin sighed, not focusing on anything.

“Thanks,” Breda said, resting his plate on the table and digging in. “How is it?”

Bolin stared at Breda, knowing full-well his plate hadn’t been touched. “You’re trying to talk to me about what happened, aren’t you?”

“Worth a shot,” Breda said, shrugging as he carved a piece of chicken. “Still feeling angry?”

“Angry, confused, depressed, I’m feeling all of it,” Bolin said, not lifting his head from the table. “I miss Opal, too.”

“Right, Opal’s your girl.” As Breda chewed the chicken, he glanced at Bolin. “You worried she’ll leave you or something?”

“No, not that,” Bolin said. Shrugging. “We spent three years apart when I was…doing other work. She didn’t leave me then.”

“Right, Kuvira.” Bolin twitched, more from Breda saying it so plain. “You know, gonna be honest with you Bolin. At first, we were all pretty sympathetic. Now it’s getting annoying.”

Bolin’s eye twitched. “I’m sorry, can you please say that again?”

“Look, I think if anyone can understand how you feel? It’s us,” Breda said, taking a chunk out of his potato. “How do you think we felt when we realized what the truth behind Amestris was?”

Bolin was about to launch into something when he sighed and nodded. “I never really thought about that, I guess.”

“No, you didn’t,” Breda said. There was no accusation in his voice, no anger. Maybe annoyance, but nothing else.

Bolin sighed, still not lifting his head from the table. “I don’t get how you four as so comfortable with all this. Sean’s a terrorist, your nation is similar to Germany, but…” Bolin threw an arm up in defeat.

“Well, you guys really don’t face up to the idea that you might be the bad guys I guess.”

Bolin finally lifted his head, looking over at the placid expression on Breda’s face. “Wait, you mean you’ve been dealing with the same thing I’ve been?”

“Eh, guess so,” Breda said, setting his fork down. “You wear our uniform, you expect some hate. Not only from Ishvalans, either.”

“Oh,” Bolin said, looking down at his plate. “I didn’t, I couldn’t guess that you guys were going through what I was.”

“Well, you’re just realizing it,” Breda said, glancing at Bolin. “You kinda accept it over time.”

“Wait, accept it?” Bolin blinked. “That doesn’t sound right, how do you accept being the bad guy?”

“What, you want to keep getting into fistfights with Mako?” Breda went back to his plate as Bolin looked on. “If everyone really hated you, why are you still with the MVTF? The problem’s how you’re dealing with yourself, Bolin.”

Bolin blinked, looking around the Belle in confusion. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“Think about it,” Breda said. “We all heard you and Al arguing. So, how many bodies is it gonna take? Trying to deny what you did isn’t gonna do it. Maybe you need to accept that you did wrong, and make it a part of you.”

“You can’t think it’s that simple,” Bolin said, turning away. “I mean, do you understand how much Kuvira’s plans were to the Nazis?”

“That’s the thing isn’t it,” Breda said. “It was similar to it. Doesn’t mean you were a Nazi though. Kuvira was like them, but she wasn’t them.”

Bolin thought for a second, then started to slump in his chair. “It’s hard to accept.”

“Not saying it isn’t,” Breda said, almost finished his dinner. “But you’re gonna have to, sooner or later. It’s gonna eat you up if you don’t accept it. Talk to Col. Mackenzie if you have to, but the sooner you learn that this isn’t who you have to be forever? You’ll be better for it.”

“What makes you say that?” Bolin asked.

The faintest trace of a smile came over Breda’s face. “Why do you think Mustang is a man I’d follow no matter what?”

“Hey, Skylar’s here,” Fuery said, jogging up to the table. “Havoc wants us all in the backroom, she says it could be a chance to undermine Dierker.”

“Of course,” Breda said, scarfing down the last of his chicken. “There’s something to be said for revenge as well.”

* * *

Asami felt her mask already starting to wane as she stared up at the gallows. She was glad Skylar was next to her, otherwise she might run up to try and stop what she was seeing. There were six nooses set up around a pillar in a square, banners bearing the swastika hanging down around them. A Nazi officer barked into a microphone, speakers in the plaza calling out in French. A crowd of civilians had been forced to gather in front of the gallows, watching as six men were lined up at the ropes as the SS patrolled the edges of the crowd. A towering pillar rose in the center of the plaza and gallows, looking like it was inscribed with images of people wrapping around it.

“As I said,” Dierker boasted next to them. “These terrorists will pay for their crimes.”

“Your efforts are most efficient, Herr Dierker,” Skylar said, playing the proper German personal secretary again. “I presume these individuals are the ones guilty of the latest attacks?”

“Quite,” Dierker said, nodding to the gallows. “Four of them were associated with the attacks on one of our convoys. The other two, they were scheduled to be transported to the camps. However, I feel it best to remind the people of the city what happens when you try to shield these disgusting rats among their homes.”

Asami didn’t understand what Dierker was talking about, but she figured the two he meant were the ones with bright yellow shapes on their coats. She glanced to Skylar, but the Brit’s face betrayed nothing.

“Herr Dierker,” Skylar said. “Even with this security, are you sure the terrorists won’t make any attacks to rescue their people?”

“Even if they do, they would have no recourse,” Dierker said, beaming at the sight of the ropes being tightened. “Ms. Sato, the war in Europe will son end with victory for the Nazis and the Aryan race.”

Before Asami could say anything, a man walked up to a lever. The six men on the gallows didn’t cry out, though two of them were crying. One was a man looking at a woman in the crowd, the other looking like the youngest of the six. One of them had a set of beads wrapped around his hand, at least until a Nazi ripped them away and threw them on the gallows. An officer walked up to a lever on the platform, the crowd starting to cry out and turn away.

The officer called out something in German, and every SS around the crowd and platform threw their arms up and shouted, “Sieg heil!” as he pulled the lever.

Asami’s mask held firm as she watched the six men plummet. Four of them were dead almost instantly, their bodies were still as they swung from their ropes.

One only had his neck snap, not break. He twitched and spasmed, his eyes looking around in desperate terror as his feet twitched. “ _His nerves,_ ” Asami realized. “ _He’s paralyzed._ ”

The last, one of the ones with the yellow emblem on his jacket, wasn’t even able to die without pain. The rope was loose enough that it didn’t break his neck, but tight enough to cut off air. As Asami watched, the man kicked and struggled against the rope in midair. His eyes started to bulge out of their sockets, his mouth gasping for any trace of air he could find. It was pointless, Asami knew it. The SS kept shouting and saluting, up until the man’s brain ran out of oxygen.

Lowering his hand, Dierker turned to Asami. “As I said, soon the Aryan race will rule over Europe.”  
  


Asami couldn’t look away from the swaying bodies. “I can only imagine what that would look like.”

“And this is only the start,” Dierker said. “One of Eckhardt’s guns in ready to fire on a hideout of the resistance in the southern countryside.”

“The countryside,” Asami said, genuine in how confused she was. “That’s a long way to fire if the gun is still inside the city.”

“Yes, but the countryside is filled with terrorists and criminals,” Dierker said. “Now, we can bombard their nests with impunity, and wipe them away in the name of the Reich.”

“Fascinating,” Asami said, smiling up at Dierker. “Where is this gun though? I’d prefer to avoid the blast when it fires.”


	32. Chapter 31-

**Chapter 31 –** **Jardins du Trocadéro**

Havoc stared at the two-day old bodies, flies starting to gather on them. No one dared take them down though, Dierker had apparently ordered that they be left up for a week. Everyone glared ahead, Sean quiet as he leaned toward Luc. “Al needed another break?”

“He was in shock,” Luc whispered. “The Nazi treatment of the Jews seems to have affected him greatly, but that is not our purpose for being here.”

Sean glared at the bodies. “Are they ours?”

“Oui,” Luc answered. “They’re Renard’s men. The Nazis arrested them in the morning, they knew exactly where to find them.”

“Bloody snakes in the grass,” Sean whispered. “What happened?”

“They were preparing for a mission,” Luc said. “They found Renard with a pocket full of detonators. He was a hard man, but the torture was so severe he gave up the others, and two of the Jews they were sheltering.”

“Then where’s Renard,” Sean whispered. “I don’t see him up there.”

“We found him in his home,” Luc whispered. “That blonde butcher, he skinned him like an animal.”

Sean’s eyes narrowed. “Dierker.”

“This was his message to the Resistance,” Luc said.

“We should kill’im now,” Sean growled. “He’s in the city right? Sato can -- ”

“No Sean,” Luc said, grabbing Sean’s shoulder. “We have more important matters. Renard and his men were about to launch a mission for Lady Bonnaire. The cannon near the Trocador is being trained on the training camp being used by Le Crochet. If it fires, more fighters will die by the hands of the Nazis.”

“Then why not get a message to’em,” Sean said, turning on Luc. “Tell’em to get the hell out?”

“The Nazis monitor the phones and mail, and a messenger would take too long,” Luc said. “More important, the farm is owned by a poor family. We cannot abandon them and let their livelihood be destroyed by the fascists.” Luc slipped Sean a piece of paper. “Bryman is waiting for you here.”

“Aye,” Sean growled. “If a little terrorism is alright with you then?”

“As long as it suits what we need,” Havoc said, ignoring Sean’s anger. “What about the rest of the resistance?”

“For now, Fr. Denis is working on contact the Resistance in the third zone of control. Once we have the city ready, we will strike back against the Nazis and show them we are not yet defeated.”

Havoc took a drag, glaring at Luc. Then nodded to Sean. “Okay, let’s go.” He noticed Bolin staring at the bodies, but was satisfied when he let Mako lead him away.

Making their way to Bryman wasn’t hard, the man waited patiently north of the Jardins du Trocadéro. “Ah, you are Mssr. Gaudin’s comrades?”

“We’re working with Luc,” Sean growled. “Comrades is a hell of a stretch.”

“Regardless, I appreciate your help,” Bryman said. “And not a moment too soon. The Nazis are dialing in the coordinates for the farm. They plan on firing the siege gun at the house any minute.”

“Bastards,” Sean growled. “Do you know how many there are?”

“ _Nein_ ,” Bryman said. “I saw them carrying shells up to the cannon a half hour ago, there can’t be much time until they fire.”

“Then we need to do the job quick,” Sean said. “You get us a truck, we’ll need to get out of here when it’s done.”

“ _Ja_ ,” Bryman said, smiling at the team. “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

“Great,” Havoc said as Bryman ran off. “All we need to do is break in and destroy a giant gun guarded by what’s probably a company of Nazis.”

Falman groaned, drawing his pistol. “Havoc, when we get back? You’re buying the drinks.”

“Right,” Havoc said, checking his pistol. “Sean, you’re with me on the lead. Breda, Fuery, keep to our rear.” Chambering a round, Havoc nodded to Sean.

The alley was marked with signs, and Havoc guessed that the locals wanted nothing to do with anything marked off with Nazi warning signs. “ _Actung! Actung!_ ” a loudspeaker blared. “ _Weapon is preparing to fire. Ten minutes remaining. Beginning trajectory calibration._ ”

“ _Don’t know what they said,_ ” Havoc thought. “ _But that can’t be good._ ”

[Moving](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZvbnNJcu-g8) through the alley, Havoc saw a Nazi soldier with his back to them. Nodding to Sean, he crouched low and moved forward. Pistol up just in case, he closed up the stairs and behind the Nazi. Clamping his hand over the man’s mouth and pressing the pistol to his neck. Dragging the man back, Havoc slammed the butt of the pistol into the back of the man’s neck. He nodded to Falman. As Falman kept a hand clamped over the man’s mouth, the others moved forward.

Havoc took cover behind a wall and peeked around. There were several Nazis standing watch, looking bored as they waited for their time to finish.

“ _No way around,_ ” Havoc thought. “ _Alright, time to get to work._ ”

Havoc leaned out from cover and fired, catching the Nazi on the rooftop overlooking the alley and dropping him. He shifted his pistol down, putting two rounds through the chest of a confused looking Nazi holding a rifle.

Sean sprinted forward, leaning around the next corner and firing his own pistol. There was a strangled cry, and Havoc rushed forward past the body of a Nazi soldier laying sprawled across the back steps of the alley. Sprinting around a turn in the path, Havoc was starting to figure out that the best way to find where he was going was simple: Follow the Nazis, kill the Nazis, ruin their day.

“ _Eight minutes,_ ” the loudspeaker barked. “ _Prepare recoil systems._ ”

Havoc came up on a quartet of Nazis, three on the alley and one on a roof above them. He dropped, firing at the one on the roof. As the soldier dropped, Sean ran up behind Havoc and shot a second Nazi. The last two solders were still there though, firing on the pair as they hugged the alley. Then there was a chattering behind them, the pair turning to see Breda firing a grabbed SMG. Grinning, Havoc crouched and slunk forward. Peeking above a pile of crates, he saw one of the Nazis trying to sprint around. Havoc put two rounds into the soldier, dropping back down as the last Nazi tried to fire wild at them. Until his gun ran dry. Sean popped up, put three rounds into the Nazi, then rushed forward.

Sean grabbed the Nazi’s rifle, Havoc moving to grab an SMG laying under another Nazi. Checking that the weapon was loaded, he pulled a spare magazine from the Nazi’s body. He looked back and saw Fuery and Mako carrying better weapons grabbed from the Nazi bodies.

“Fuery, go back and get Falman,” Havoc said. “Wait for us at the front of the alley, we’ll meet up once we destroy the cannon and get back to La Villette.”

The loudspeakers went off again, Havoc cursing. “Dammit, they’re not giving us a lot of time. Sean, take the lead.”

“My pleasure,” Sean growled, grinning as he chambered a round in his assault rifle.

The alley was a maze, twisting and turning back and forth on the way to the cannon. Nazis were scattered along the way, either up on the rooftops or right in front of them. Sean charged straight at them, firing first and thinking not at all along the way. Havoc did his best to keep up, firing on any Nazis he saw on the rooftops as Sean charged through the alley. Even with the gunfire, the Nazis didn’t have any chances to react. Havoc couldn’t blame them. The sight of an enraged Irishman charging at them, weapon blazing, seemed like a good reason to be shocked into stupidity.

“Six minutes until weapon firing,” the speaker shouted. “Recoil check complete. Hydraulic pumps engaged.”

“We need to find the gunner,” Havoc shouted. “If we can’t blow up the weapon, we can still stop them from using it.”

“Right, kill all the Nazis,” Sean shouted back. Havoc rolled his eyes and said nothing. He turned a corner and was about to start charging down a set of stairs, until he leapt back toward Havoc a half-second before a burst of machine gun fire ripped up the stairs. “Shit, they actually prepared this time!”

“Figures,” Havoc groaned. Looking around, Havoc grinned when he saw the roof tops around the alley were low enough to clamber up on. “Okay, I’m gonna go up over the sides and take out the gun. Can you keep him distracted?”

“Oh, I love getting myself shot up,” Sean shouted, blind firing his rifle around the corner. “Get moving already!”

Havoc nodded to the rest of the team, handing his rifle off to Bolin as he took a running jump at the rooftops. Clambering up over the side, Havoc heard the machine gun buzz away. _“_ _Gotta say this,_ _” Havoc thought. “_ _Nazis sure like making decent weapons._ _”_

Crouched down on the rooftops, Havoc moved toward the part of the alley where he could get around the gun position. That was when he saw the gun proper and felt his jaw drop. The weapon was massive, a sprawling platform built to support it at the edge of the buildings. Havoc shook his head and thought, _“_ _Forget it, even their engineers lunatics._ _”_

_“ Five minutes remaining,” _the loudspeaker announced. _“ Hydraulic systems at maximum capacity.”_

Groaning, Havoc crawled toward the alley and peeked down. He saw a second gun position waiting, in case someone managed to disable the first. If Sean had managed to take down the first gun position, he’d run straight into the second’s line of fire. Leveling his pistol, he put down the soldier behind the second gun and dropped him.

He was about to put rounds through the first gunner when pain ripped through his left arm. Ignoring it as best he could, he leveled his pistol and fired at the gunner. Seeing the man drop, he crawled back and looked down to see blood trailing out of a bullet wound in his left arm. Gritting his teeth, he felt around and was relieved to feel an exit wound. No need to go through digging around to find the bullet today.

_“Havoc!” He groaned at Breda’s call, slinking back down the way he came. Pulling off his coat as he landed, he saw Breda waiting for him. “The others are going ahead, what happened?”_

“Sharpshooter,” Havoc grunted. “Help me out with this, huh?”

“Jeez, you’re out of the game a while,” Breda said, pulling out a handkerchief and shaking his head. “Think they can do it?”

“It’s Bolin and Sean up there,” Havoc said, wincing as Breda tied off the wound. “I almost feel sorry for them.”

Sprinting past the second gun position and up a final flight of stairs, Sean ducked and pulled a grenade out of his satchel. Grinning, he pulled the pin and threw it over the top of the stairs. The Nazis screamed, then the grenade went off.

The trio sprinted up, saw a third machine gun, then split. Sean and Mako dove right, behind a pile of crates. Bolin dove left, taking his own lone crate for cover.

Sean laughed at the sight of the gun. “Oh, you big beautiful bitch,” he said.

Bolin wasn’t laughing at the sight of the cannon. The design was almost exactly like Kuvira’s plan for the spirit cannon-

_“_ _No_ _,”_ he thought, clutching as the sides of his head. _“_ _I’m not a Nazi! I’m not a Nazi!_ _”_

_“ Four minutes until firing,” _the speakers blared. _“ Begin adjusting trajectory for wind and humidity.”_

“We’re running out of time,” Mako shouted. “Do you have any more grenades?”

“Oh, let me just pop over to the shop and get some,” Sean said. “If I had any I’d have used’em by now!”

Fire kept pouring on the crates, Mako trying to force himself lower. “Bolin, are you okay!”

_“_ _You’re not a Nazi,_ _”_ Bolin thought, shutting his eyes. _“_ _You’re not! You’re not!_ _”_

Sean leaned around and fired at the platform, the Nazis shouting out as they came under fire. “Bolin, what the fuck’s wrong?”

“Kinda having a personal crisis right now,” Bolin shouted. “I know, bad time, give me a minute!”

“We might now have a minute!” Sean leaned around and fired at the machine gun. It answered with a long burst at him.

_“_ _Okay, you’re okay,_ _”_ Bolin thought, taking a breath. _“You’re not a Nazi. You did bad things, but you’re not a Nazi._ _”_ Bolin nodded, checking his pistol. _“_ _Right, because a Nazi wouldn’t be fighting for innocent people. A Nazi wouldn’t recognize that they did wrong. Yeah, yeah I’m not a Nazi!_ _”_ Bolin started to grin, holding his pistol up. _“_ _Because I help innocent people, I don’t point giant weird guns at them!_ _”_

Popping up, Bolin fired at the machine gun. He didn’t hit anything, but it drew the gunner’s attention. Exactly what Sean needed to put a round through the soldier’s helmet.

Mako popped up, firing on the platform. He caught two Nazis, the pair screaming as they tumbled over the side to the ground. Sean sprinted ahead, Bolin and Mako covering him as he made his way to the gun.

That was when they all heard it, the droning sound from the sky. Looking up, Bolin and Mako saw a zeppelin coming their way. “Oh no,” Mako whispered. “We need to get out of here before it gets into range.”

“Not before we destroy the gun,” Bolin said.

“We don’t know how long that might take,” Mako said. “That thing’s already coming at us.”

Bolin tried to think of something, scanning the bodies. “Maybe we can point the machine gun at it!” As Sean tore through the gun platform, he raced to the machine gun and tried to lift the tripod it was on. Then he realized they’d bolted it to the roof. “Okay, maybe not.”

“We tried Bolin,” Mako said, ignoring the sounds of mayhem from the gun platform. “It won’t do any good to have the Nazis kill us here.”

Bolin was about to agree when he saw something. One of the Nazis dead on the platform had a long tube in his arms, and Bolin’s eyes went wide. “I know what we can do.”

“Wait, what?” Before Mako could get an answer, Bolin was sprinting to the platform. “Bolin, now what?”

“This thing can take down airships,” Bolin said, grinning as he grabbed the weapon. “We just need it to get a little closer.”

“Let it get closer?” Mako grabbed the tube away, surprised at how much it weighed but not dropping his glare. “Bolin, did you hear what you just said? You didn’t learn anything!”

“No, Mako, it’ll work,” Bolin said, grabbing the tube back. “I’m not trying to kill myself this time, I promise!”

“Then why are you telling me a tube is what’s gonna stop that zeppelin,” Mako shouted. “You’re still talking crazy!”

“No, talking crazy is saying that Chief Beifong would make a good air acolyte,” Bolin countered.

“This isn’t a joke Bolin,” Mako shouted, pulling again.

“That’s why I’m not joking!” Bolin argued.

As the two pulled the tube back and forth, they didn’t realize they were fiddling with a very temperamental weapon. With each tug, they jostled the safety. With each jerk, they jostled the impact generator. All as the zeppelin droned closer.

“I swear Bolin, it’s like you’re obsessed!”

“I’m not obsessed Mako, this thing can take down that airship!”

“Bolin, it’s a giant metal tube!” Mako jerked it back again. “How can it do that -- ”

The rocket screamed out of the tube, the back blast falling through the holes in the metal platform. Turning, the brothers watched as the rocket screamed through the air, right as the zeppelin came into firing range. Watching, they saw the rocket impact the front of the airship. Then they were treated to the sight of it being consumed by flames as it fell from the sky.

Bolin grinned. “Told you it would work.” Mako grinned, punched his brother in the shoulder, then raced for Sean.

They found him at the top of the platform, fists bloodied from beating the last of the Nazis down. “Alright, I’ll set the bomb. Where’s Havoc?”

“I thought he was right behind us,” Mako said. “Breda too, where are they?”

“Hey!” The trio turned to see Breda sprinting up from the stairs. “Havoc took a bullet, we clear?”

“Aye, glad you joined the party,” Sean called out as he placed the explosives on the breech of the gun. “How is he?”

“He’ll live,” Breda said, Mako and Bolin surprised at how well Breda could run for his size. He held the bomb in his hands, a gray lump like the C-4 they got from the SGC. Running up to the trio, he handed his block to Sean. “Nice job with the airship, too.”

“Oh, yeah, totally planned it,” Bolin said, failing at playing it off.

Setting the charge, Sean nodded. Then started sprinting back down the platform. The brothers and Amestrian followed, sprinting back down the metal stairs into the alleyway. As they ran, they saw Sean pull a detonator and press down.

The blast ripped through the platform, shattering the gun and twisting the supports holding it in place. The weight shifted on the platform, the building underneath unable to support the weight. As a squad of Nazis ran up to the building, the platform and building façade buckled. Cracks ran through the concrete, and with an almighty groan the gun started to fall forward. The soldiers paused, staring up at the gun, then slowly started to back away. Then the platform gave out, taking the top of the building with it. The Nazis tried to run, but the size of the gun meant that by the time they were running it was already too late. The crashing artillery piece shook the ground, burying the fascists under their own steel.

The four met back with Havoc, Falman, and Fuery at the entrance to the alleyway, Havoc nursing a bloodied left arm. “Bout time,” he grunted. “Guess the gun won’t be firing anytime soon?”

“Things worth less than scrap,” Sean said, seeing Bryman drive up with the truck. He nodded to Havoc’s arm. “You alright?”

“I’ve been better,” Havoc said, grinning. “It feels better than you look.”

Sean scoffed. “Way I’ve seen you talking to Collette, you seem like a fella who’s used to doing things with his one good arm.”

Bryman’s stolen bread truck pulled to a stop in front of the alley, and throwing the doors open they piled inside and hid under the baskets of fresh loaves. Taking some for their lunch, they grinned as they heard the sirens scream past in the opposite direction.

* * *

Havoc winced as the doctor inspected his wound in the basement of La Villette. “Well?”

The doctor pulled a bloodied scrap of shirt from the wound, matching it with his discarded shirt. “You’re lucky,” the doctor said. “Any deeper, I would have had to start cutting.”

“Small blessings,” Havoc sighed as the doctor started wrapping him up. “How long?”

“Two weeks,” the doctor said. “You’ll need a sling, and you need to make sure your bandages are clean and swapped when they need to be.”

“Thank you doctor,” Luc said, nodding to the man as he gathered up his things in his bag. “What can we do to repay you?”

“You can throw these _bosche_ out of Paris,” the doctor said, standing up. “Until then, some good cognac will do.”

_Havoc looked up. “Trying to forget your troubles?”_

“Trying to keep idiots like you from getting infected wounds,” the doctor said, glaring at Havoc. “Keep it clean, and no idiotic firefights.”

Havoc rolled his eyes as the doctor left, turning to Luc. “Well, Le Crochet’s got time to move his people. Thing is, how’d they figure out where the safehouse was?”

“I don’t know, and it worries me,” Luc said. “The farm they were hiding out in is isolated, few outside the area know it exists. All of the names associated with it are beyond reproach.”

Sean spoke up from the table. “Like I said, we’ve got snakes. The Nazis are paying people off, turning them into informants. You need to figure out who it is. Beyond reproach don’t mean a thing when there’s hard money involved.”

“A fair point,” Luc sighed. “I will send word to Fr. Denis. Once he finishes with contacting the rest of the Resistance, he will be the one to investigate.”

“I like it,” Havoc said, sighing as he realized he was already holding his arm where it would be with a real sling instead of one in his own mind. “I’ll take care of this.”

As Havoc walked off, Bolin spoke up. “Well, what now?”

“Bryman is going to confer with Lady Bonnaire,” Luc said. “She has an operation in mind, one that she claims will breathe new life into the people of Paris. Until then, rest. I must check with the Rousseaus about our use of their business for another kidnapping.”

As Luc walked off, Bolin leaned over to Breda. “Hey, you were right.”

Breda blinked. “That was quick.”

“Oh, I get over things pretty quick,” Bolin said. “Like that time I was engaged to Korra’s psycho cousin?” Bolin snapped his fingers. “Totally over it.”

“Glad to hear it,” Breda said, staring at Bolin for a second. “Now what?”

“Well, we keep trying to get home, right?” Bolin shrugged. “What else is there?” Breda pointed across the basement to the sight of Al, sitting alone, resting his head on the map table.

“Oh,” Bolin said. “Guess I owe him an apology, huh?”

“It’d be a start,” Breda said.

Sighing, Bolin shuffled over, grabbing a chair and taking a seat across the table from Al. He was silent for the first few seconds, Al was silent, Bolin tapping his fingers together as he waited for Al to say anything. The alchemist’s eyes were completely unfocused, staring through the air at nothing.

“Hey, so,” Bolin said, trying to play cool. “I know we’ve been having a rough few weeks.”

“Bryman,” Al said, his voice quiet. “He’s Jewish.”

Bolin froze, his face slowly falling as he understood what Al was starting to learn. “What happened?”

“He said that, that the Nazis are persecuting his people.” Al’s eyes started to focus, but not to the point he was back in reality. “Bolin, I don’t…How? How can you justify persecuting someone like that?”

Bolin’s heart deflated. “You didn’t believe me when I was telling you all about what the Nazis were capable of?”

“I believed they were, I mean that they’re capable of evil things,” Al whispered, starting to ball his fists. “All humans are.”

“So, what’s wrong,” Bolin said. “What’s the part that you’re missing?”

“Bryman said there’s…” Al finally looked at Bolin. “The Nazis aren’t giving any reason, Bolin. The Jews didn’t do anything to them, at least nothing that anyone’s told me. It isn’t like Ishval, the Jewish didn’t attack anyone because someone attacked them. There’s no cycle of hatred or anger here, not that I can see.”

“Yeah, they didn’t need a reason,” Bolin said. Now his eyes were going distant as he recalled everything he’d seen, all the horrors he’d read about in getting the files for Kuvira’s trial. “They wanted power, and they needed a scapegoat. Someone that would be an enemy, to give them that power.”

“But they didn’t do anything,” Al whispered. “They didn’t burn cities, they didn’t attack anyone, I can’t understand.”

“Maybe it’s better you don’t,” Bolin said. “Maybe it’s better you can’t think like them.”

Al balled his fist, but he didn’t slam it on the table. He held it in the air for a second, then gently put it back down. “There’s no plan here, is there? This isn’t to gain the power of God?” Bolin shook his head. “Kuvira, she wasn’t trying to become a new Avatar?” Bolin shook his head again, looking away.

“Bolin,” Al whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Bolin nodded and looked to Al. “I’m sorry too.” Bolin held up his right hand, and Al clapped his right hand to Bolin’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me at the start of this story: Fun Nazi bashing times!
> 
> Me at the 3/4 mark: Fun Nazi bashing times with a dose of emotional trauma!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Yep, we're already starting on this one.
> 
> So, quick note: This story involves Nazis. Yeah, it's set in a universe where WWII is happening, but I feel like I need to make this clear since the last four years have shown us these fucking cockroaches are crawling out again.
> 
> Fuck the Nazis.
> 
> If you think Nazis are cool, or you think they're genius, or you think, "If the Nazis did X/Y/Z they would've won the war", get the fuck out and don't come back, because A is A isn't for you fucker.
> 
> If, on the other hand, you're ready to read a two-fisted tale that would make Indiana Jones-era Spielberg proud, strap in and get set.


End file.
